


Tougher than I look

by novacorpsrecruit



Series: Tougher than (we) look [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, High School, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, More angst, Secret Identities, Sexual Content, but sometimes that happens, idk man, idk man there's fluff here too, regular high school shit other than being a superhero and dating a villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 94,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novacorpsrecruit/pseuds/novacorpsrecruit
Summary: Old friends reunite as the finally attend the same school after almost seven consecutive years apart, give or take a summer or two. And maybe the butterflies in Peter's stomach tells him that their relationship is more than just 'childhood friends.' Or maybe that's just the terrors in his abdomen as a new villain stirs trouble in New York City and is constantly leaving new bruises for Peter to explain to Harry. But either way, he needs to fight back because it almost seems as if the Green Goblin is out for blood -- Spider-Man's blood.





	1. 'I'm finally here.'

This was it.

Senior year. Peter Parker's _senior_ year.

The year everything goes right. Focus on school. Focus on Aunt May. Focus on saving New York City. Focus on life. Peter Parker's famous undivided attention.

He's applied for many colleges and universities-- mainly within a subway ride away -- and all he has to do is wait. Everything will turn out fine ... unless every single one of those schools turn down the anxiety-filled, 3.9-grade-point-average, advanced placement, nearly-perfect attendant crime fighter. Minus the crime fighter part. He left that out of the applications. Maybe he should've kept it in. It would have been a good publicity for the schools, and he could have been an immediate -- 

"Peter!" Peter stopped in his steps and turned to search for a familiar voice in the distance. Among the sea of less-than-eager students, piling into the school was a long-forgotten face. Peter smiled.

"Hey Harry."

"Missed me?" Harry Osborn pulled Peter into a hug. "What's it been? Three years?"

"Since your started your _wonderful_ high school vacation?" Peter patted Harry's back, trying to remember the last time he saw the bed-headed Osborn. "Or since your junior high boarding school?" 

"Ugh, don't remind me," Harry groaned, pulling away. "I've repressed those dorms deep within my memory." He wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulder, leading him into the school. "For two years of my life, I forgot what the sun felt like."

"You're making England sound much worse than I bet it was," Peter smirked, completely forgetting their setting. He was so eager to catch up with his childhood best friend ... who normally doesn't go to Midtown Science High School. Peter stopped at the bottom of the stoop. "What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged, pulling away from Peter and made his way up the stairs and into the school. "Scenery change."

And that was it. That was all Harry had told Peter. This was the first public school Harry had attended since ... elementary school? Has Harry ever attended a public school? Peter quickly ran after him. "I thought you were going into business?"

"What gave you that idea?" Harry asked, glancing at a note in his pocket, locker 2019. He showed Peter the note as he caught up to him, suggesting him to lead the way. Osborn and Parker wouldn't be too far away from each other. 

And he wasn't wrong. Peter gestured to the right wing, and the two were off to find their lockers. Peter's locker had been nearly the same throughout high school, give or take a few numbers. "Maybe the family business? Or all the pre-college, business centered summer programs?"

"But your forgetting the family business," Harry shrugged, stopping the locker he can now claim as his home base. Peter walked another six feet, passed a dozen more lockers, to find his 2034, a dented bottom locker. He's curious on how Peter forgot the family business Oscorp Industries. It was kind of everywhere. "To run a business, you need to know what you're businessing--"

"Businessing?

"Okay, who's been a business major since pre-k?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Whether or not businessing is a word of the English language, you have to know what's going on." He slung his backpack over his shoulder and grinned. "And to be accepted into a college of business and technology, it kind of helps to have a technology background, right?"

"Right, yeah, of course," Peter chipped back, focusing on Harry's smile. He wasn't sure the last time he saw Harry smile. Most of the photos posted on his social media usually have a stern, focused look, similar to his father's. It had almost felt like a long-forgotten dream, bringing calming warmth back into his life. Peter looked down at his schedule in hand, shutting his locker. "Principles of Engineering," he said flatly. "Nothing is more exciting in the morning than conceptual learning."

"How about conceptual learning with your ol' pal?" Harry smirked, showing Peter his schedule. It was nearly identical. Principles of Engineering, Technology and Cultural Relevance, Energy and the Environment, U.S. Government. The only differences for the fall semester were Harry's advanced Latin and Peter's lack of pre-calculus. Peter also was placed in the advanced section of their English hour and had planned to take Yearbook, officially. The more he glanced at his schedule, he's wondering if concepts were the only grasp at breathing. Maybe he will do freelance work for the yearbook students. "Looks like we're going to be spending our 'A' days together. You'll have to help me out in Latin." 

Harry took a glance at their schedules, and compared the two days. Out of seven of their classes, the three they didn't take together all fell on the alternative 'B' days of the week. Luckily, their study period would be the same. "And you can help me with calculus."

"Which you'll need for spring," Peter reminded, pointing to the lower half of Harry's schedule, where Spring's Computer Aided Design and Engineering Graphics were followed by a red-inked warning phrase "PREREQUISITES REQUIRED", meaning Harry's pre-calculus course.

Harry shrugged. "I've got all semester, and if I really needed extra help, I'm taking calculus during the spring, too."

"Which is a suggested pre-req."

" 'Suggested' is the key word, there's only so much they can suggest," Harry smirked as the warning bell rang. Peter gestured down the hall, leading Harry in the direction of Principles of Engineering. Harry followed willingly as any other senior with Senioritis. "Pete, you gotta relax a bit. It's the first day of senior year. We gotta make the best of it."

"I'm just trying not to die," Pete sighed. Both physically and mentally. It takes a lot out of a 17-year-old who fights crime for free. He should consider accepting PayPal. "There's going to be a load of homework for each class, plus I need to keep grades up to be accepted into _any_ college, and I just feel so busy all the time."

"Pete, you just gotta let go of the stress." Easy for Harry to say. He's been relaxed since they walked into the building. How is he not stressed? The final bell rang. They were officially late on the first day. Harry grabbed Peter's hand and squeezed. "I'm here for you when you need me. Pete, I'm _finally_ here," Harry laughed, pulling Peter into motion before letting go of his hand. Peter followed without a fight, he'd follow Harry anywhere he could ... especially if it's to the class that they're late to.

Harry was right. Not about letting go of the stress. That's more of a micromanaging problem, and his economics class is next semester. But the fact was out there. _Harry is here._ It's no longer a dream. Harry, his childhood best friend, is here. And his heart is beating too fast for this just to be a 'Missing my best friend' case, and Peter knew it. But whether Harry knew adds to the never-ending list of stresses.


	2. 'I'm not boyfriend material'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a set schedule, so this might end up being sporadic, but planning to keep up.

Throughout first period, Peter and Harry wrote notes back and forth, trying to catch up.

_Top college choices_

_City Tech, Columbia, Empire State, CUNY, SUNY, some community colleges_

_No MIT?_

Harry remembered how much Peter had talked about going to MIT like his father. It was the reason _why_ Harry applied there.

_I can't leave Aunt May._

After Uncle Ben's death, Peter couldn't leave Aunt May alone, no matter how much she said she was fine wherever he went to school. Plus, with all trouble in New York City, Spider-Man is needed here. Cambridge can find its own superheroes. Before Harry could write something, Peter took back his paper and scribbled once more before passing it back to Harry.

 _What about your choices?_  
_The Ivys & MIT _

Before he could pass the note back to Peter, Mr. Greenwich, their Principles of Engineering teacher, had snatched the lined paper off the desk.

"And what's more interesting than mechanisms?" Mr. Greenwich asked the two. He glanced at the paper, noticing the last several lines referring to higher education. He glanced over his glasses at the boys before passing the note back to Harry. "While deciding which college you want to attend is important, to attend some of these institutions, you must pass this class." He walked back to the front of the class, carefully glancing at the two, making sure they weren't going to continue. "Now, as I was saying. Scalars are quantities than can be expressed solely in terms of magnitude, such as area, mass and work. However--"

Peter felt a slight nudge into his rib cage. He glanced over to see a piece of paper, barely hidden under the table. He grinned as he slowly took it from Harry's hand, letting their fingers brush.

"--For some quantities, it is necessary to know both a magnitude and a direction to describe them completely--" Peter opened the note, glancing at the new, nearly fresh note with rushed, chicken scratch in the very middle. "--These are known as vectors. Like force, acceleration--" _We should go out. Tonight._ "And momentum."

\-----------------

Peter and Harry tried to catch up as much as they could.

Between classes, they shared movie reviews. "Top three from last year: Moonlight, Hacksaw Ridge and Loving." "What about Zootopia? Ghostbusters? Pete's Dragon?" "Nope. Didn't have time for those." "Moana?" "Oh shit, you're right."

During Technology and Cultural Relevance, where Peter and Harry talked about technology and cultural references as they sat on opposite sides of the room.

Meaning, they kept snickering as they glanced at their phones and sent saved memes to one another. Peter had wondered why they haven't kept up with each other over the past few years. Other than the time differences, and schedules and school and the Spider-Man ... how does anyone actually socialize and sleep?

Over lunch period, they talked about relationships.

Peter vaguely described his relationship with Gwen Stacy last year, obviously skipping the Spider-Man parts and Gwen's father dying.

"You guys sound like you're on good terms," Harry said, remembering Gwen had spoke to them briefly before second period started. "Why did you break up?"

Peter bit his lip and shrugged, searching for an excuse. "I'm just not boyfriend material." The blame should be on Peter, whether it's truthful or deceiving. It's a reminder that Peter needs to be more careful with the people in his double life, especially those he cares about.

"Could've fooled me," Harry said, sipping his water.

"What about you, Harry?" A voiced piped up. Peter suddenly realized that there were more than just Harry and him at the table. A few girls had sit beside them, and probably heard Peter's stories about Gwen. He's internally dying from embarrassment. "Who have you dated?"

"Uh ... well. I really don't figure that you would know them," Harry said, shrugging. He looked back at Peter, to see his pink cheeks. Maybe sharing would help Peter feel less embarrassed. "Well, there was Emma, in uh, third grade? Pete, you remember her?"

Peter chuckled, "Is she the one who pushed you down the slide when she heard you kissed her best friend, Gemma?"

Harry laughed, "Yeah. Gemma also slapped me afterwards, just so Emma would like her, again." Harry thought for a little bit longer. "Alexis, Brycelynn, Courtlyn was pretty memorable for England, Dakota, Edith, Frankie --"

"You attended school in England?" Another voice piped up. The amount of people sitting beside them had tripled, mainly girls. None of them had ever paid attention to him for the last three years. Why now? Peter looked across the table back at Harry and understood. They were here for _him_. He wouldn't blame them. What's not to love about Harry? His piercing blue eyes and the way they smile in-tune with the corners of his mouth. His hair was perfectly tousled, in between 'I just woke up' and 'I paid my stylist a lot of money to fix my hair like this,' but either way, perfect for fingers to run through it. How his embraces felt strong, comforting and something you could fall asleep in--

Peter stood up. "I need to check in with Yearbook committee." If Peter was going to fight for Harry's attention, he's going to lose this battle with a dozen girls surrounding them. "To ... see if they need someone to take pictures for the 'Back to School Bash' tonight." Which was half-true. He didn't plan on going, but they might actually need someone to take photos if they haven't set up photography beats yet.

"Oh that's right! I nearly forgot about that!" One of the girls piped up. Peter was pretty sure her name was Clara, but he wasn't quite sure. "Are you going Harry?"

"I think I am," Harry said, not taking his eyes off of Peter, who gave a quick wave and rushed off to a table on the other side of the cafeteria, where Harry assumed some of the Yearbook committee sits.

"You should go with me."

"Come with me!"

"We can go get food before we go!

Harry sighed. He should've known. "I already have a date," He said, standing up. He picked up his tray, and what Peter had left. "Thanks for the offers."

\---------------

Harry and Peter caught up with each other just in time for Government, with a few minutes to spare before the syllabus was passed out. "So?" Harry asked.

"So?" Peter mimicked, a little confused.

"Are we going to the Back to School Bash?"

"Well ... we can," Peter shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Elijah said he was going to take photos. He doesn't want ... uh how did he say it? 'Daily Fugle's bad journalism practices infecting the precious yearbook.' " Peter didn't mind. The Daily Bugle definitely leaned more towards tabloids than actual newspapers, and J. Jonah Jameson definitely likes to see the headlines played up. It also meant one less commitment this school year -- until the freshman photographers lose interest and Elijah comes back to Peter, but he will throw this back into his face so he can get out of it, or get _something_ out of it. "Wait, are you not going with one of those girls?"

"Nope," Harry laughed. "They're not my type." Greedy, annoying and fake. "What time am I picking you up?"


	3. 'I got an idea'

After school, the boys parted ways. Harry needed to go to his internship at Oscorp, and Peter said he needed to go get milk for Aunt May. Which was true, but he was going to do that after he patrols the city. They were going to the 'Back to School Bash' tonight, and Peter wouldn't be able to check out the city then ... unless duty calls.

On the ledge of a building, Spider-Man sat, dangling his feet over the edge with a police scanner softly chatting from his phone. When he first started, he thought about buying an actual police scanner but realized that it's bulky and obvious. He discovered the app a few months ago, and while it does work, sometimes its better to rely on his spidey-senses.

With the most exciting events on the scanner being several fender benders throughout the city, Peter let his mind wander. He started to think about his "date" with Harry tonight. He sighed. How he wished it was an actual date, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He knew Harry's type, and many of them were the girls that sat at their table at lunch -- well, before they opened their mouths. Harry didn't seem like he was into guys, especially with the list of relationships he gave. Why would Peter be the exception? There's no way that Harry's hugs or his constant grabbing of Peter's hand to pull him to class meant anything more than an excited friend.

Peter groaned. He needed to stop over analyzing everything Harry does. Eventually, Harry will pick a girl to date, take to dinners, take to dances, take to prom ... and Peter would be swept away under the rug until Harry dumps her and finds another girl to date. Peter doesn't know how long he could handle the cycle before it kills him.

Peter tried to remember what actually was going to happen at the Back to School Bash. Usually, these events are filled with bullshit excitement to get tired teenagers, who forgot to get a full night's sleep the night before. He knew there was going to be food trucks, lame inflatables and some unknown band that only seems to know cover songs of '80s hair bands. The  _real_ event happens after 8, at Flash's house. Peter has never gone before, mainly because of the constant bullying from Flash, up until the spider bite, but Harry was invited and he invited peter. 

Peter picked up his phone and checked the time: 5:33 p.m. He stood up on the ledge. He needed to get going, if he was getting milk for Aunt May, and make it back home in time for Harry to pick him up.

He closed the scanner app, as a large gust of wind blew by him. He blinked, unsure what that was. Wind gusts usually don't affect the upper skyscrapers in the middle of the city. it definitely wasn't a bird, unless it was a flock of them. Maybe it was Falcon?

"Is it no longer my shift?" He shouted in the direction of the gust.

"You wish," a jumbled voice laughed from behind him. Peter quickly turned around. A green metal-armored man, floated in front of him on a contraption that Peter could only assume was a hover glider. He looked him up, noticed the larger build of the man in front of him. It would be a fight and a tough fight. He met the man's large metallic yellow eyes, he could almost see his reflection in them. It sent shivers down his back.

"I think the green is a little overkill," Peter replied, nonchalantly. "What are you? The swamp monster?"

"The Goblin," he breathed.

Peter laughed. "The Gobl-" Before he could finish, he felt a sudden pressure on his chest and his balance lost. The sound of glass breaking flooded his ears, and next thing he knew, he was on the floor of the building next door. "Repulsor beams?" He groaned, that would explain the glider. "That's a copyright infringement strike -- ?" He looked outside the broken window, in search for the man that had blasted him off the ledge, but he was no where to be found. "Uh ... Goblin?"

No response. Peter hoped that was a good sign. He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, only to notice a surprisingly small crack along the side of the screen. Manageable. Peter? Ego bruised, maybe his back, but running late. Peter had to get going ... hopefully this guy was just a one-time scare. Or, at least, just for tonight.

Peter rushed home, grabbed a gallon of whole milk from the bodega, and rushed inside. He glanced at the time: 5:58. Harry was going to be there soon. Peter quickly shoved the milk in the fridge and went up stairs. He stripped and started to put on new clothes ... until he realized he smelled like a barbecue. He grabbed his phone, clothes and ran into the bathroom, sending a quick text to Harry.

_P: Running late sorry_

_H: Me too, don't worry_

Peter took a quick glance in the mirror, noticing a few small cuts on his back from the glass. He's going to have to find a way to explain that at Flash's, if they go swimming. Thinking about it ... he wondered if they were actually going to swim.

_P: Are you bringing swim trunks?_

Peter jumped in the shower. He needed to get the smell off of him before Harry thinks he took up smoking. He poured much more shower gel into his hands, lathering it all over. By the time he worked the soap into his hair, he heard his phone buzz. He stuck his head out of the shower, quickly glancing at the text before his phone went back to sleep.

_H: No, Flash said skinny dipping._

Peter groaned, leaning back into the shower, letting the soapsuds wash out of his hair. Swimming was a confirmed possibility, and eventually, he will need to explain the small cuts. Or maybe he will luck out, and they will all be too drunk to care. 

As soon as the heat left the pipes and cold water started to interrupt his thoughts, Peter shut off the water. He was in there a lot longer than he thought. He grabbed a towel, slipped out of the shower and into his room to change.

"Peter!" Aunt May called from downstairs. "Harry's here!"

"I'll be there in a few!" Peter called back, panicking now, because Harry apparently doesn't know what running late means. He quickly threw on a graphic t-shirt and some jeans, grabbed his phone, socks and shoes and headed towards the door. He glanced at his book bag that was hiding Spider-Man's suit and softly sighed. He knew he should take it ... but he wanted to take the night off and be a teen. The Avengers are working tonight right? He ran downstairs, leaving the backpack upstairs.

"Hey Pete," Harry smirked, gesturing to the socks in Peter's hand. "It's getting kind of chilly out there, are you planning on wearing your socks?" 

"Hah, funny," Peter said, taking a seat at the bottom of the stairs to slip on his socks and tennis shoes.

Harry walked over and leaned against the wall. "Hey did you tell Aunt May that we're going out?" He whispered. "Or are we sneaking around?"

"What?" Peter laughed, tying his shoes. "No, she knows."

Harry's face lit up and he relaxed. "Alright cool." Peter stood up, confused at why Harry thought they were sneaking out, when he came through the front door. He walked to the closet to grab a light jacket, just in case it actually got cold. May came around the corner and smiled at the two. "Aunt May, did you see how cute my date looks tonight?" He smirked, gesturing to Peter, who was rolling his eyes.

"He's very cute," May smiled. "I just wish he got rid of some of those band t-shirts."

"I dunno," Peter started, looking down at his Arctic Monkeys. "If I did, then how will people know I have a bad taste in music?"

"You'll tell them," Aunt May and Harry said in unison.

"Come on, let's go," Harry said, grabbing Peter's arm and pulling him out the door. "See you later, Aunt May!"

"Be home before 11!" Aunt May called after them, knowing that the boys would find trouble after the bash. "It's a school night."

"Soooo, I'm kind-of grounded," Harry said, winking to Peter as they were out of earshot. "I'm actually pouting in my room right now, but Dad missed the fact that I swiped some keys before I went up to pout."

"What did you do?" Peter asked, sliding into the car and buckling up.

"Went too far, I guess," Harry shrugged, as he did the same. "Good for Norman, though. I almost thought I came home to someone else's dad."

"He's not ... sending you away, is he?" Peter asked concerned. He just got Harry back, he can't leave now. He remembers the day he went over to the Osborn's house in search for Harry. The Osborn butler, Bernard, had opened the door and his face dropped to see 12-year-old Peter, and have to tell him that he left early that morning, that Norman had sent him away to a summer program. When school started, Peter was excited to see Harry in his class, only to realize that the summer program, turned into boarding school.

"Oh no, it wasn't that bad," Harry laughed. "I just pushed him a little too far." Harry glanced at Peter, who still looked worried. Harry reached over, and took his hand. "I'm _not_ going anywhere." Peter nodded, squeezing Harry's hand in his, enjoying the comfort Harry gave and the comfort of Harry.

\---------

The bash was actually surprisingly enjoyable. Peter wasn't sure if it was because the school actually rented carnival rides instead of inflatables, had more options for games than "Pie Your Educator" and the food trucks were actually tasty, or if was because he was spending it with Harry.

The boys ate Korean Barbecue from one of the trucks before checking out the entertainment. They rode several rides, from the tilt-a-whirl to the round-up to bumper cars. Much to Harry's dismay, they did not have a roller coaster. "I swear, Pete, we're going to ride a roller coaster tonight. We might have to break into Luna Park."

"I'd rather not go to jail," Peter laughed, hoping Harry wasn't serious.

They played a few games, skeeball, basketball hoops, catch the frog. Harry even won Peter a few pencils and a notebook. It was a school event, after all.

They went on the Ferris wheel, listening to the surprisingly good band below them, playing songs they actually recognize. "Midtown actually did well this year," Peter joked.

"I can't complain," Harry said, not knowing what the previous years were like. He yawned, and leaned his head against Peter's shoulder. Peter's stomach jumped.

"Last year, Mr. Greenwich's band played," he laughed. "They were reliving the '80s, it was so bad. Like, they had the whole get up and everything. Tons of hairspray."

"Greenwich doesn't have any hair?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He had a wig," Peter grinned. "Not rented, not borrowed, _he owned it_."

"He should wear it more often," Harry snorted. Peter laughed, mainly at Harry's snort. He glanced at Harry's hand that rested on his leg. He moved his hand, slightly so their skin brushed. Peter needs to tell him how he feels: whether he tells him how glad he is that Harry is here, attending school at Midtown, or how his heart skips a beat every time Harry says his name. Which can't be good for his circulation.

Harry's phone buzzed. He sat up, moving his hand away from Peter and reached into his pocket to read his text. "Flash says they're heading to his place, you wanna go?"

"Uh," Peter said, turning a little red. It almost felt like Harry had pulled away from him after they touched. Thank God the sun went down, to avoid explaining his flushed cheeks. "Yeah. Let's go."

"Okay cool," Harry said, shooting Flash back a quick text. "I have a bottle of Jameson in the car if we want to get a few cokes to go. If not, I'm sure Flash has stuff."

"No, yeah, that sounds good," Peter nodded. He better watch how much he drinks and stick to water, or else he's going to be spilling out some truth.

\-------------

There were only a handful of people at Flash's party.

Peter and Harry brought the group to twelve people, and the entire time Peter was there, Flash acted like they've been friends the entirety of high school.

Harry's large bottle of Jameson was almost gone after 30 minutes. Peter and Harry had a drink each ... followed by a shot or two ... or three. Then the bottle passed around the room, everyone either taking a shot straight from the bottle or poured a bit into their drink. Those who passed on the bottle, end up pouring Everclear into their drink. Peter hated to say it, but he was drunk.

"Hey, someone finish this," Flash said, holding the nearly empty bottle up. "I got an idea."

Harry grabbed the bottle and downed the last shot before passing it back to Flash.

"Everyone gather 'round," Flash grinned, gesturing everyone to the living room. He set the bottle on the floor and smirked. "We're gonna play, spin the bottle."

Everyone groaned. It was such a cliché game.

"Are you sure you don't want to play seven minutes in Heaven?" Harry laughed.

"What?" Flash stared Harry before realizing it was a joke. "No. Just come do it." Peter laughed, trying to figure out what Flash was thinking, but soon everyone sat down, pretty quickly. He followed suit.

"Alright, I'll go first. It's my idea," Flash said, spinning the bottle. Before the bottle stopped, he grabbed it and pointed it at Liz Allen. She rolled her eyes.

"That's cheating."

Flash grinned and raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know." He leaned towards her, pucking his lips before she sighed and gave him a peck.

He shrugged before passing the bottle to Mary Jane Watson, a college student that Flash knew.

"This is going to be the dumbest thing I've ever done," she groaned and spun the bottle. It spun a few times before landing on Harry. "On second thought," She smirked and leaned in. Harry returned the smile and kissed Mary Jane. Peter could feel his heart heavy. Maybe after the party, they will end up together and Peter won't see Harry much, as he would be hanging out with his cooler, older girlfriend. Peter too focused on overthinking, he nearly missed the bottle being shoved into his chest.

"Your turn Parker."

"Oh ... I," Peter said, not sure if he even wanted to spin. Flash rolled his eyes, and the bottle was removed from his hands.

"I got you Pete," Harry said, taking Peter's turn and spinning the bottle for himself. Peter watched as the bottle spun, then slowed down to land on him. 

"The rules say you gotta -- " Flash started, ready to inform the two that the rules don't discriminate across gender lines, but Harry already took the initiative. He leaned into Peter, snaking his hand around Peter's back. He took Peter by surprise, but soon Peter relaxed and kissed back, resting his hand on Harry's jaw line. He'd never thought that Harry would kiss him, let alone at Flash's --

Flash cleared his throat, audibly separating the two. "You turned down seven minutes in Heaven earlier."

"You didn't state the rules," Harry said, shrugging and passing the bottle to Seymour O'Reilly, one of the guys on the football team. The party continued for everyone after the kiss like it was nothing ... well, for everyone but Peter. He couldn't stop thinking about how soft Harry's lips were, how he held him when he kissed and how he _didn't_ do that for Mary Jane. He was surprised that he's still breathing.

Peter looked at the wall clock, "Shit."

"What?" Harry asked, glancing up at the clock: 11:15, it's been more than an hour since they finished spin the bottle, mainly because O'Reilly kept trying to land it on Mary jane, and she punched him after the third fake spin. "Shit." He looked at Peter. "Do we need to leave?"

"Well ... yeah, we should." Peter grabbed Harry before rushing out the door. Peter looked at Harry, or in the direction of Harry. "I think ... we need to walk."

" _You_ would need to walk," Harry said. "I'm almost sober. I promise you, we'll be okay." Harry had a strong alcohol tolerance, but it was also a four block drive, with no stops. Harry waited at the side of the car for Peter's approval. He wasn't getting in until Peter said it was okay, and Peter was hesitating. "We can walk if you want to --"

"No, you drive." Peter said, carefully walking towards Harry. "Slow?"

Harry walked over to Peter, wrapping his arm around Peter's waist, helping him into the car. "Of course."

\-------

"We lost track of time," Peter remembers Harry explaining in the entrance way.

"Everyone was drinking water when we left," Harry said on the stairs.

"We won't be late in the morning," Harry promised at the edge of Peter's room.

"Good night," Peter remembers Harry called to Aunt May as he shut the door of Peter's bedroom.

"Good one," Harry rolled his eyes, as he slipped into his underwear.

"To bed," Harry said, pushing the nearly naked Peter into his bed. Peter tries to remember when he took off his clothes.

"Good night," Peter swears Harry told him, pressing a gentle kiss against Peter's temple.

Peter remembers laying his head on Harry's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

He also remembers leaning up and kissing Harry good night.

But it was all a blur. _He couldn't remember what all was real._


	4. 'I know about Project Green'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I was smarter, I would've wrote and posted chapters 3 and 4 at the same time

Harry rushed out of school. He needed to his internship at Oscorp and do his work before going to the 'Back to School Bash' with Peter tonight. Before he stepped off the campus grounds, he heard someone call his name. "Harry!" He stopped and turned around. Flash was running after him. "Hey, are you coming tonight? We're going skinny dipping!"

"Yeah, definitely," Harry said. Liz Allen had told him he was invited during U.S. Government, but it was nice to actually talk to Flash about it. "About that," he started slightly nervously. "I'm bringing Peter tonight. And I don't know if we really told anyone about us, but if you could just take it easy on him ..."

Flash was silent for a second before it hit him. "Oh, yeah. Okay," Flash said, nodding his head. "I haven't outed Tiny McKeever, yet, so you can trust me."

"Fuck," Harry groaned. "Thanks Flash, appreciate it. See you tonight." 

\--------------

Harry hurried to Oscorp, not wanting to be late than what he already was. Norman had been reluctant to let Harry take up the task, it was dangerous and needed a guinea pig -- not the heir to the company -- but Harry had insisted. In all honesty, Norman didn't want Harry to even know about the project, but he had overheard and volunteered. Harry's return home had almost been a symbolic door to Norman. New opportunities, new challenges and a new relationship between a father and son. But that doesn't mean Norman's willing to throw away Harry's safety to further testing.

Harry actually had returned to New York three weeks ago. After persuading his father to let him attend Midtown Science, Harry had persuaded him to intern at Oscorp. "I have to learn the family business eventually." Norman groaned and agreed. They had set up a schedule: Harry would shadow Norman for two days, exclusions from executive meetings, then for the next three days he would shadow engineers, lab technicians and some of the scientists, if they allowed. Norman would even send him on small business meetings across the city, giving him more trust in the company than Harry had expected. While those meetings discussed small issues, something that an assistant could have handled, Harry was glad that he was sent instead.

Norman had carefully picked those he shadowed, avoiding anyone who has worked, or was currently working, on "Project Green." He clearly had stated to his crew that he didn't want Harry involved in any aspects of the experiment, but he didn't expect Harry to overhear him outside the door. Harry was returning to Oscorp late after running errands for his father, missing the meeting that he was _supposed_ to be involved in. He was about to enter the room until he heard his father tell his top employees that the project was "too experimental" for Harry to know, and that they were not to speak a word of it to him.

Harry knew if this was three years ago, he would've barged in and demanded answers ... which wouldn't turn out well. If this was last year, he would've tried to talk to his dad one-on-one, only to be denied answers. Instead, Harry went to go research. His dad carried the meeting on without him, so he must still think Harry's in meetings. In a spare meeting room with his Oscorp-linked laptop (and a previous login from his father), Harry learned about the OZ experiments from genetic testing and health revitalizing to the Arachnid Archives and Project Green. Once he realized why his father has kept this secret, he knew that he had to help out. 

Harry printed a few pages out and ran into his father's office, where he was having a conversation with one of his lead researchers.

"Harry, there's such a thing as knocking," Norman scolded. 

"I know about it," Harry said firmly. "I know about Project Green."

"Who told --"

"I found it, _by myself_ ," Harry said, slightly lying. His father's voice carried through the door and helped guide him the way. "I want to help."

"Harry, it's not going to happen."

"Sir," The lead researcher meekly spoke up. "He would be perfect for trials. He's young and more energetic than anyone on our team. And would be a perfect choice for --"

"Don't even mention it," Norman snapped, hoping that Harry didn't know everything about Project Green.

"Dad," Harry said, softer. "I know your sick ... I want to help." Harry looked at his father, fighting back the tears forming in his eyes. "Please, let me help."

\-----------

Now, Harry exhaled, trying to relax as scientists took his vitals.

"Remember what we've told you," Norman said. "We are just testing out the suit and nothing else. Do not engage with anyone. We will be checking communications every three minutes. If you don't hear from us, you come back. Got it?"

"Got it," he repeated. 

"And just south Manhattan and back," Norman specified. "To Wall Street and back."

Harry nodded. He knew the way. His father used to take him as a child 'to see the Charging Bull' only to realize that was half of the stop. Stocks were more important to Norman than the bull. Thank goodness, Harry's mom liked the bull as much as he did. He noticed one of the scientists had a long needle, nodding towards his arm. They've been testing for the last two weeks, since Harry's discovery of Project Green. He watched the needle, prick his skin, slowly entering his arm. He closed his eyes and exhaled, thinking about his mom. She would love to see the 'Fearless Girl' statue in front of the Wall Street's Bull --

"Fuck!" Harry mumbled, as soon as the serum hit his blood stream. He kept his arm extended, fighting the urge to reflex. He groaned as it felt like his blood was set on fire. This isn't what it felt like last time.

"We up'd the dosage," the scientist explained to Harry. "Two milliliters instead of the one we've been testing. This will help in case the suit fails."

"Which it won't," Norman ordered, rather than confirmed. 

"Which it won't," the scientist repeated, placing a bandage on Harry's arm.

Norman walked to Harry, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "You'll do well," he said. Harry wasn't sure if _that_ was an order, or his father trying to be comforting. "Make me proud."

Fully suited, Harry took off. It was a learning curve to keep the glider steady, but he got the hang of it after the first mile. 

"Checking in," The scientist said over the speaker. "Do you copy?"

"Copy," Harry confirmed. He passed by a building, with reflective windows. It was the first time he saw himself in the suit. His grin peaked from the helmet's opening at the mouth. The design of the costume was slightly lame, but he wasn't going to complain.

Second mile: "Harry do you copy?" "Copy."

Third mile: "Har-- do -- opy?" "Copy."

Fourth mile arrived, and no messages. "Hello?" He called. All he received back was static. He moved the speaker away from his mouth. If he didn't need to speak to anybody, there was no reason he needed to have it on. He had a half mile to go. He needed to see the Bull. 

He changed his speed, trying to hurry when he heard a call. "Is it no longer my shift?" Harry flew around the building. He knew the only person that would be this high up could be--

Spider-Man. Standing on the ledge in front of him, waiting for a response to the gust of wind that flew by him.

"You wish," Harry laughed. He almost didn't recognize his voice, but he knew it would fade as soon as the serum wore off.

"I think the green is a little overkill," Spider-Man joked. "What are you? The swamp monster?"

Harry knew exactly what the suit was called: Globulin 350, or by its nickname. "The Goblin."

Before Spider-Man could finish his sentence, Harry forced his body backwards, allowing the bottom of his glider to face Spider-Man. With a push of his heel, the repulsor beam on the bottom initiated, pushing Spider-Man off the ledge, and Harry away from him. He knew Spider-Man would find a way to get out of his situation, he always seems to do so. But Harry needed to get back, and play dumb like he didn't know he lost communications.

After he left Lower Manhattan and the Empire State Building was only a few blocks away, he heard his panicking dad over the speaker. " --you copy? Harry! Do you copy? Harry!"

"I'm here," Harry replied. "Lost communications in Lower Manhattan."

"Street," His father commanded.

"Eighteenth," Harry replied, now seeing Oscorp building in the distance.

"Did you go to Wall Street?"

"No. I turned around."

"Harry--"

"I turned around," Harry said, firmly.

As soon as Harry got back, they took his vitals. They said his heart was beating faster than it would if he just finished a marathon. Harry felt fine.  His adrenaline was high, too. He felt calm. 

"You're staying in for the night," Norman said, walking away.

"No way," Harry said, shocked. "I have a date --"

"She can wait another day," Norman replied. "Or maybe you can learn to listen to us, when we tell you to turn around."

"I did--"

"At eighth street," Norman snapped. "A mile away from where you said. You are to stay home. That's final."

That wasn't final.

Harry originally went up to his room, using the elevator to go upstairs. He showered and changed clothes. Slier than normal, thanks to the serum, he slipped out, grabbing a pair of car keys,  he used the stairway to go down several floors -- twelve at the last -- before dashing toward an elevator and heading out.

\------

 The entire night with Peter, Harry felt normal ... he felt great. He wasn't sure if it was solely because of the serum or if it was because of his date with Peter.

He felt normal watching Peter getting ready in the hallway.

He felt normal comforting Peter, holding his hand in the car.

He felt normal eating Korean barbecue from a food truck, riding the tilt-a-whirl and winning prizes for Peter.

On top of the Ferris wheel, Harry felt on top of the world with Peter.

At the party, he felt sober; no matter how much he drank. His first drink, a coke and Jameson mixture, didn't feel as strong as it used to. He took a shot, hoping to feel more. Nothing. He took another shot. Nothing. He took another. Still nothing. He would've taken another, but he realized that Peter had been taking them with him, and the face he made after the third shot, made Harry realize that this might be the first time Peter's drank before. He passed the bottle to Flash, telling him to share with everyone as he went to get Peter two glasses of water. 

After Peter finished both glasses of water reluctantly ("I have my coke'n Jameson. I'm good." "Drink it." "I'm good -- " "Drink."), Flash raised the nearly empty bottle of Jameson. "Someone finish this, I got an idea," he declared. Harry grabbed the bottle, hoping that his fourth shot would make him feel something. He put the bottle to his lips and leaned back, taking every drop, before handing it back to Flash. Flash unveiled his game of Spin the Bottle.

"Are you sure you don't want to play seven minutes in Heaven?" Harry laughed, couldn't think of a more outdated game to play. However, he sat down to play. Peter sat down next to him.

He watched as the bottle passed down the line. Flash spun, tricking Liz Allen to kiss him, then passed the bottle to a red-head that he didn't know. She complained, spinning the bottle. Harry watched as it landed on him. "On second thought," She smirked, leaning in to kiss him. He grinned, mainly amused at the way she changed his mind over him because of his looks. He gave her a small kiss before carrying on. "Would be better if you weren't still in high school."

"Then why are you here?" Harry laughed. She was the _only_ college student at the party, even if she was only a year older than them.

"Your turn Parker," Flash said, reaching over Mary Jane to shove the bottle into Peter's chest.

"Oh ... I," Peter said, not sure if he even wanted to spin. Harry watched as Flash rolled his eyes. He glared at Flash, trying to remind him to be nice, as he took the bottle from Peter's hands.

"I got you Pete," Harry said, spinning the bottle for himself. The bottle spun a few times before it landed back to Peter. Harry grinned, praising whatever deity or political leader that was listening. 

Harry noticed Flash's awkwardness, trying to make sure he didn't make a mistake and out Harry and Peter's relationship, like he said he wouldn't. "The rules say you gotta -- " Harry rolled his eyes. He wrapped his arm around Peter's waist and pulled him in for a kiss -- their first kiss. He could feel Peter's shock, but soon he melted into the kiss, gently cupping Harry's jaw in his hand. Harry felt ... amazing.

Flash cleared his throat, audibly separating the two. "You turned down seven minutes in Heaven earlier."

"You didn't state the rules," Harry said, shrugging and passing the bottle to Seymour O'Reilly, who seemed too eager to spin. Harry took a glance at Peter, and smiled. Harry was glad to be back and spending time with Peter.

Time passed rather quickly, and soon the two were running late. 

The alcohol, which hasn't affected Harry in the slightest, really hit Peter hard. Harry helped him to the car, to which Peter refused to get in. Harry had to convince him that he was sober enough to drive him home, even though he was never drunk in the first place.

Once home, Harry tried to convince Aunt May that Peter wasn't drunk, but it didn't help that Peter kept trying to tell Aunt May that he was sober, but his words kept slurring. Harry took the blame, it was his bottle anyway. Aunt May wasn't happy, but she was glad that Harry was Peter's "DD."

In Peter's room, Harry shut the door. "Good one," he rolled his eyes. "You really fooled her." If he was staying the night, he better get comfy. He slipped out of his clothes, tossing them to the ground. He looked at Peter, who was still trying to unbutton his pants. "You're like a big, drunk child," He laughed, pulling Peter's shirt over his head. He unbuttoned Peter's pants, thinking to himself that action was normally sexual and with anyone else, he'd be quick to act on it. But this was Peter. He wasn't going to do that until they were ready. He helped Peter out of his clothes, tossing them into his hamper.

"To bed," he said, pushing Peter onto the bed, chuckling. He helped Peter get comfortable, hoping to whatever god answered his prayers earlier that Peter wouldn't throw up in the bed tonight. Harry slipped into bed next to Peter. "Goodnight," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against Peter's temple. He felt Peter readjust himself, laying his head against Harry's chest.

"G'dnight," Peter mumbled. Harry laughed, before Peter raised his head off his chest. He thought he had offended Peter by laughing and was about to apologize, but Peter interrupted him with a soft kiss good night, before resting his head back on Harry's chest. Soon, Peter was out like a light.

\-----------------

Harry woke up before Peter. He checked the clock: 4:42 a.m. As much as he wanted to stay in bed with Peter, he needed to get home. He slipped out of Peter's bed and got dressed. On Peter's desk, he found a sticky note pad and a pen among the mess and wrote a quick note. 

 _Had to go before Norman finds out_  
_x H_

He stuck the note to Peter's chest before bolting out and driving home.


	5. 'Babe, if it was your first time, you should've have let me known'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is long!!

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

Peter grabbed his phone of his nightstand and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?" He groaned. His head was pounded.

"Pete, you gotta get up," Harry said from the other side of the line. "I told Aunt May that we wouldn't be late, and you're pushing it."

"I'm not going to be late," Peter groaned, rolling over.

"Really?" Harry huffed. "I'm outside waiting on you." Peter quickly got up, knocking the sticky note off his chest, and looked out the window, searching for Harry. 

"No you're not."

"Right," Harry said. "I'm on my way to first period." Peter glanced at the clock: 7:52.

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, oh shit," Harry rolled his eyes, loud enough that Peter could hear him. "There's Advil on side table. I found it on your desk this morning and figured you might need it." Peter groaned because he definitely needed it. He popped off the lid, took two, then drank part of a water bottle that was on the table. "Pete, I gotta get to class. You need to, too."

"Yeah, okay." Peter said, hanging up. He went to the bathroom and washed his face, trying to remember what all exactly happened last night. His head boomed loudly in the silence. He couldn't remember how much he drank, if they went to Flash's, if Harry _actually_ kissed him. He swore Harry stayed the night, but Harry would have woke him up before leaving him. Maybe Peter can try to clear up his mind on his way to school because he needed to get going of classes start at 8.

It didn't take him long to get ready, he just needed to get dressed and something to eat, which ended up being three granola bars and a banana shoved into his bag for later. He'll eat during Latin.

Peter ended up being late for Latin, to which the teacher, Mr. Mulligan, would not let Peter have a mulligan and handed him the syllabus then kicked him out of class. "Remember this next time you're heading to class, Mr. Parker." Peter looked at the clock 8:03.

"I'm three minutes late -- "

"See you Thursday, Mr. Parker." So Peter went and sat outside, and ate his breakfast. He could've gone out somewhere for breakfast. He still could.

At 9:25, the bell rang to end first period. Harry went to his locker, putting his English book away. He wasn't planning on caring that for the rest of the day, as it seemed to weigh more than the rest of his books combined. He shut his locker to see Peter, rushing down the hall, with two coffee cups in hand, dodging everyone in between.

"Hey Hare," Peter said, handing Harry a cup of coffee. "I ... uh ... had some extra time on my hands."

Harry took the cup and smirked. "You were late, weren't you?"

"Three minutes late," He sighed. "I was practically on time for getting up when you called. It could have been worse."

"Make it to English," Harry laughed, and running his fingers through Peter's hair. "See you at lunch?"

"Yeah," Peter said, flatting his hair back down. "See you there."

\----------

"I cannot believe how many shots you guys took," O'Reilly laughed, elbowing Peter in the ribs. That confirmed the drinking part.

"That was nothing," Harry smirked, knowing that it hadn't effected him at all.

Peter rolled his eyes. "I still can't believe you were sober enough to do anything."

"Clearly, you weren't," Flash joked. "Harry had to help you to the car."

"Peter wasn't the one who stuck his head in the fish tank," Harry laughed. Peter didn't remember that.

"That was a dare," Flash retorted. "Plus, I'm not the one who drank toilet water." They all looked at O'Reilly, who just shrugged.

"A dare?" Peter whispered to Harry, not remembering that either.

"Nope," Harry whispered back.

"C'mon, O'Doggo," Flash laughed, gathering his stuff. "We gotta go talk to coach." O'Reilly nodded, shoving the last of his burger in his mouth. He tried to say bye, but it was muffled. "We'll leave you two lovebirds on your own," Flash whispered, winking. Harry groaned, smacking his head against the table. And that confirms it for Peter: They did kiss and Harry wasn't fond of that. Harry, on the other hand, was frustrated at Flash's ability to keep things low-key. He will never share another secret with Flash, again. Peter snaked around to the other side of the table, finding it a bit awkward to be sitting beside someone alone. Plus, this also gives Harry some space.

"I'm sorry about Flash," Harry mumbled against the table. He picked his head up and whispered. "Do you want to keep it low-key?"

Peter bit his lip. If Harry was asking, then he must have been embarrassed about the kiss. "Uh, yeah, sure," he nodded. Inside, he was hurt. Even if somehow Harry was attracted to him and decided to date him, they would be in hiding.

On the other side of the table, Harry was more concerned about how Peter felt like they were perceived. He knew Peter was bullied over the past couple of years and figured he'd want to stay out of the limelight, but if he wanted their relationship out in the open, Harry would fight everyone for Peter. "Thanks for the coffee," He smiled, thinking of the warm caffeine that helped him out during Latin. He did get scorned by the teacher about having an off-campus beverage. "Carter thinks that Latin IV should be spoke only in Latin."

"Yeah, no problem," Peter said, shoving fries into his mouth. "I had the time and figured that we may need it to help the hangover."

" _Your_ hangover," Harry smirked. "I told you, I was practically sober."

"You drank just as much as i did," Peter said, trying to count all the drinks. Harry did finish the bottle, too. "More?"

"I have a higher tolerance," Harry said. Well, that and Osborn-created steroids. "Have you ever drank before?"

"Not ... that much," Peter lied, blushing.

"Uh-huh," Harry smiled, reaching over to ruffle Peter's hair. "Babe, if it was your first time, you should've have let me known."

"I ... considered it," Peter said, blushing more at Harry's nickname for him. He knew it wasn't anything more than it seemed. He gathered his plates. "C'mon, we can talk more about how drunk I was in study hall."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Study hall?"

"Yeah, it's like when you study, but you're not in a hall, you're in the library or a classroom."

"No shit, Sherlock," Harry said, reaching into his bag and pulling out his schedule. "Study hall's after pre-calc." 

"No," Peter said, setting the plates on the table. He pulled out a crumbled schedule from his bag. "It's before ... calculus ... " The two compared schedules, suddenly realizing that they had very different schedules on their B days. Instead of only having study hall together, they only had lunch period. 

The bell rang.

"Shit," the two said in unison. 

"I guess I'll catch you between classes?" Peter said, trying to make the best.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Uh, let's go out tonight, too. We can make up for the extra time." He grabbed his tray, and walked to put them away. "We can go out for supper or gelato or a movie."

"Yeah, all of those sound good," Peter said nodding ... then remembering he's not just a regular teenager. "I do need to make sure that I'm not grounded or anything first."

"For a whole 20 minutes that I took the blame for," Harry rolled his eyes. Peter marked that off the checklist of things that happened last night. "I need to go to Oscorp anyway. Shadowing the engineering department today," he grinned. "Text me later, alright?" He wanted to kiss Peter goodbye, even on the cheek, but he knew that if they were laying low, that's a big red flag in the cafeteria. He ruffled Peter's hair once more, before sprinting off to pre-calc.

"Yeah, okay," Peter said, before watching Harry sprint off. He turned to rushed towards the library. He had a lot of catching up to do for the time he missed in Latin.

\-------------------

After school, Peter had a calm day as Spider-Man. Only a few robberies, one involving a jewelry store and another a bank, right before the vault closed, but after those, New York City seemed pretty quiet. Which concerned Peter. New York never was this quiet. Whenever it was closer to five, Peter went back to eighth street, to the same sky scraper that he saw the "Goblin" at yesterday and waited. He had set up a sticky trap between the buildings, just in case he flew by again, but he never came.

 _Bzzz_.

Peter quickly checked his phone, excited for a text from Harry.

_H: I'll be done in 30 if you're still up for grabbing a bite. Bring calculator?? I hate precalc already._

Peter chuckled. He also had homework for calculus, but he would definitely be willing to help Harry out.

_P: Are you paying me in food?_

_H: Of course._

The two met up at Moonstruck Diner, where Peter would see how expensive some of the meals were and regret joking about Harry buying him food. Harry and Peter sat on the same side of the booth as they snacked on an order of Greek fries while they worked on Harry's precalculus. Peter figured he would do his later, or after their food came. Right now, he was focused on Harry, and that was pretty easy with Harry's left hand resting on Peter's knee.

Harry was trying to focus on his math, but it was hard when his precalc tutor was Peter. But he needed to focus on functions, ranges and domains if he wants to keep Peter as his tutor. If he doesn't, he's going to be assigned an actual tutor.

Soon, their food came. Peter's New Yorker burger, with the fried egg a little runny and the bacon crispy, and Harry's sandwich, the Lord Johns with chicken, mozzarella and veggies. Peter had opened his book and tried to zoom quickly through his work while they were eating. He completely missed Harry handing his credit card to the waiter to pay. By the time Peter had finished most of his burger and homework, the waiter had returned with Harry's card and was ready for him to sign the house receipt. Peter blushed. "Dude, I'm so sorry you didn't have to pay."

"I figured it's a date," Harry winked, putting his card away and searching through his bills for a tip.

"Let me get the tip," Peter said, as he took his wallet out and put a five dollar bill on the table.

Harry started to pack up. "Did you walk here?" Harry blushed. "That's dumb, sorry, you didn't _swing_ here from ropes." Peter chuckled, a little nervously, as he closed his book and slipped it in his bag. Spider-Man did swing in this direction.

"No, I took the bus."

"Let me drive you home," Harry said, standing up from the booth. Peter slung his book bag over his shoulder and before he could even fully stand up, Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the restaurant. He waited for Harry to let go of his hand after they were out, but he never did. He even interlaced their fingers as they walked beside each other. Harry felt it was safe, it was after school and they were barely a block away from his car. Peter was trying to figure out why Harry hadn't let go yet, but he wasn't going to complain. He was going to enjoy holding Harry's hand.

The car ride home, Harry complained how Flash wouldn't leave him alone during study hall. "I almost wanted to take up marching band to avoid spending another hour and a half in the library with Flash." He groaned. "Would you still like me in a marching band uniform?"

"The uniform? Yes. The hat? No," Peter laughed.

"Then it's confirmed: I'm going to duct tape Flash in the 480s of the reference books."

"French?"

"Greek," Harry smirked, looking at Peter, who missed the joke. "Because no matter what you say, it's all Greek to him." Peter smacked Harry's arm.

Once they arrived outside the Parker household, Peter grabbed his bag. He couldn't forget that. He still had a little more to finish before he forgot how to do calculus. Plus, part of his Spider-Man suit was tucked at the bottom of the bag.

"I'll see you for Principles," Peter smiled. "I can't promise coffee, again."

"Maybe I'll surprise you," Harry winked.

"It's not a surprise if you tell me about it," Peter rolled his eyes.

"You'll never know," Harry laughed, leaning slightly over the center console to kiss Peter, only to realize that Peter wasn't going to do the same. So Harry ruffled Pete's hair instead. He returned back into his seat. "I'll catch you tomorrow then."

"With possible surprise coffee."

"Possible."


	6. 'You know my name, so why does his keep coming up?'

Many had already known about Peter and Harry's relationship, and Peter seemed to be the last one to know.

**First were Aunt May and Uncle Ben.**

Peter and Harry have been friends since they were little. Their fathers had worked close together, up until Richard Parker's disappearance. Peter and Harry would have play dates while Norman worked. Most of the times, Bernard would pick up Harry in the evenings, mostly before supper, but sometimes Peter begged that Harry stayed for supper because they were going to have his favorite: Spaghetti and hot dogs. At first, Aunt May was embarrassed knowing that the little five year old in front of her has had fancier meals as a toddler than what they were going to have, but Harry loved it. It was new to him, and something special.

A few years later, Harry would still come over. May would make sure the two boys finished their homework before they played. One day, Harry had finished his homework within ten minutes. May checked, and the answers were right. "You can go play while Peter finishes -- " And off he went.

Harry went on a search to find Uncle Ben. He had found him under the upstairs bathroom sink, fixing the pipes. "Mr. Parker?" Ben glanced from under the sink to spy on Harry.

"Harry, you know you can call me --"

"I know, Uncle Ben, but this is important," Harry cleared his throat. "Mr. Parker, I would like your permission to marry Peter."

Ben was stumped. He wasn't expecting this at all, and he wasn't sure what to say. Mainly because he had always thought of Peter marrying a girl, specifically Carli Cooper since Peter wouldn't stop talking about her on the swing set. Ben slid out from under the sink and sat up. If Harry was thinking about marrying a man at such a young age, Harry needed support and Ben wasn't sure if Harry would get that at home.

"Harry," He said, calmly. "You have my blessing, but you need Peter's permission first." Ben thought for a second. " ... And you need to be an adult."

Harry's face lit up as he tackled Uncle Ben into a hug. "Thank you, Uncle Ben!" Ben laughed and gently kissed the top of Harry's head.

"You are perfect the way you are Harry," Ben said, ruffing Harry's hair, hoping that if Harry remembered anything about this conversation years down the road, he would remember that. "Now go downstairs and play."

Harry never asked Peter to marry him. He thought that you needed to be an adult to ask.

**Next, there was Bernard.**

On the way home from Peter's the day that he asked Uncle Ben for Peter's hand, Harry told Bernard in the back of his father's Cadillac. His father still at work and was supposed to be home in time for supper. But Harry knew that sometimes, dinner would only be him and Bernard.

"Bernard?" He asked. "What's for supper?"

"Lamb chop with Roasted garlic and clementine carrots," Bernard replied.

"Okay," Harry said, nodding. After a minute of silence, Harry spoke up again. "Bernard?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I'm going to marry Peter someday."

Bernard chuckled and nodded, "That would be a wonderful wedding."

"Bernard?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Can we have ice cream for dessert?"

**Then it was Norman.**

Being thirteen was awkward for everyone. Their looks, clothing style, music choice. Peter and Harry regretted everything, except for one thing.

Harry never regretted telling Norman how he felt about Peter.

It was at the dinner table, just Norman and Harry. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, it felt special. This time, Harry knew he had to tell Norman that he might be gay. He wasn't completely sure if he was, but he knew that he liked Peter and he's liked him for a while. And it wasn't "Hey let's play Mario Kart competitively" kind of like. Harry wanted to hold his hand while watching a scary movie. Harry wanted to kiss Peter in the back of the movie theater. And more recently, Harry needed pillows for awkward erection covers. He didn't know how he was going to explain to Peter that "Nightmare on Elm Street" got him excited. It had to be Peter's resting body against his.

"Harry," Norman said. "You need to eat your vegetables."

"Dad, I think I'm gay," Harry retorted.

"Doesn't matter, you need to eat your vegetables."

The next day, Harry was off to London. Harry wasn't going to attend school with Peter, nor be in the same country. It had almost seemed as his father had packed his bags overnight and threw him on the plane.

For a while, Harry didn't forgive Norman for that. He refused to come home for fall break or corresponding days for Thanksgiving. He almost didn't come home for Christmas break, until he realized he could see Peter. But he was snowed in for most of that Christmas break -- just his luck.

When summer arrived, Harry had his bags packed and ready to return home. Until he found out, his father had assigned him to a summer program that would start the day after spring semester finishes and ends the day before fall semester starts. He was officially stuck away from Peter.

**Then there was all of those who never could win over Harry.**

Many of the girls at the England business prep school knew Harry as the American heartthrob. To be fair, any American boy attending a British school tends to be a heartthrob. It just helped that Harry looked similar to Dave Franco.

Brycelynn was the first girl he dated in England, and she wasn't the last. Courtlyn was the first guy he dated and he was the first guy he kissed. Courtlyn helped Harry learn that he was bisexual. Harry learned that he felt the same way he did about Courtlyn than he did about Brycelynn. But at the same time, no matter who he dated, it didn't feel right.

**Then there was Dakota.**

After England prep school came California boarding school, with a small squeeze of New York summer in between. Harry had saw Peter for most of the summer, trying to catch up after junior high. During this time, Harry wasn't sure if he should tell Peter that 1) he was bisexual and 2) that he wanted to date Peter. Especially since he was leaving by August. Harry suppressed his feelings, which often caused him not to want to leave the penthouse or hang out with Peter, in fear of what _could_ happen. But once he realized that because he was back in the United States didn't mean he was going to come home more often, it was too late.

Harry was sixteen when he lost his virginity ... almost. 

Dakota was his boyfriend of the time, long term (for Harry, read: three-and-a-half months). They were in Harry's room. Harry's roommate, Chance, was out studying like usual. Dakota and Harry took this as a window of opportunity. 

After the door was locked, Harry wrapped his arms around Dakota and pulled him into a kiss. He lead Dakota backwards to his bed, until he felt the mattress against the back of his knees. He smiled as he leaned away from the kiss, pulling Dakota's shirt off. Before Harry could kiss him again, Dakota started to unbutton Harry's shirt. As soon as Harry's lips touched Dakota again, Harry melted into the bed, pulling Dakota on top of him.

Dakota smirked, then deepened the kiss. He had felt like the heir to a major corporation would have loved to see him squirm with every touch, but he enjoyed this. He broke the kiss only to move his lips to Harry's neck. A soft nip of Harry's skin caused him to moan. Dakota wanted to see how far he could get away with making a hickey on Harry's neck. It would be covered with his collar, so Dakota wasn't worried. The more Dakota sucked, the more Harry moaned.

Harry moaned softly, "Oooh, Peter." Dakota stopped. Sitting up, he slapped Harry's chest.

"There's that name, again!" Dakota whined. "You know my name, so why does he keep coming up?"

"I ... I don't know," Harry said honestly. He knew Peter wasn't going to date him. He threw that idea out the window a long time ago, so why does he keep popping into Harry's mind?

"Who is he?" Dakota asked gently. He didn't know a single Peter that went to their school, he was mainly concerned that Harry might have been cheating on him whenever Dakota went to work at the local grocery store, because they're together the rest of the time.

"A grade school friend," Harry said quietly. "But we haven't dated. And we're not going to. He's not ... "

"Into guys?" Dakota rolled his eyes as he slipped off of Harry. "You say that like it's the hard truth you can't avoid, but you moan his name like your certain you're going to end up with him." Dakota got off the bed and picked up his shirt off the floor and slipped his shoes on. "And until you can get over him, _this_ \-- " Dakota gestured between the two, " -- isn't going to happen."

After that afternoon, Dakota and Harry barely looked at each other during the rest of the school year. Whenever Harry's eyes _did_ met with Dakota's, Harry gave a sympathetic look, knowing that the two will never get back together.

Dakota also was the last person Harry dated.

**Then it was Flash.**

~~We were here earlier, do I need to go back over this?~~

Liz Allen shared History class with Flash Thompson on "A" days. She wasn't sure if she'd call it dating Flash, especially not during football season, but she had date-security when it came to parties and fall dances. Once football season was over, then she had a boyfriend, again.

"Flash, I invited Harry Osborn to the party tonight," Liz whispered.

"Alright."

"You know him and Peter Parker are like ... an item right?" She raised an eyebrow at him. It would take a complete idiot to miss the fact that they spent every second together today, and it would take a lot more than a class schedule to split them up.

"Uh, I guess?" Flash said. Liz rolled her eyes. _Her_ idiot was one of those that would miss their relationship.

Liz lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "Like Tiny?"

"OH," Flash nearly shouted, which caused the entire class to look back at him. "I ... uh ... realized Napoleon wasn't ... American?" Liz buried her head into her bookbag on the table, while Flash hoped his newly discovered fact was true. This was the boy she decided was hers. Good thing architecture didn't need a strong history background.

**Then it was Gwen.**

Gwen had a lot of classes with Peter, including AP English. She watched as his phone constantly lit up with texts from Harry. Eventually, she watched as Peter started to light up, as soon as his screen did. It almost kind of hurt, knowing he did the same for her last year. She nudged him and gestured to his phone.

"Are you guys dating?" She whispered.

"What? No?" Peter said, blushing.

"You are!" She whispered excitedly.

"We're not," Peter said, turning red. "There's no way that he would date me."

She shrugged, pointing to the screen that lit up, once again. "Could have fooled me."

**Then, there was Peter.**

"What the fuck," Peter said gasping for breath. He kept his hand on Harry's chest, trying to remember how much they had to drink. None. Nothing. Nada. Their make out session was completely sober.


	7. 'Uh ... Happy one month anniversary.'

The first month of school flew by fast.

Peter and Harry have survived through several tests across the board. Even without a shared study hall, the boys found time outside of school to study with each other. Usually at diners that Harry drags Peter to or at one of their homes. Peter helped Harry prepare for his precalculus test, telling tips and teaching tricks for the TI-84 calculator. Harry helped Peter with basic Latin, which in terms, helped Harry remember the Latin he learned years ago.

After the two talked about surprise coffee for Principles of Engineering, Harry started bringing coffee for them on the "A" days. The caffeine helped fight the desire to sleep during Greenwich's lectures.

There were some days where Peter and Harry just couldn't find time to hang out. Harry's internship was time consuming and demanding. Harry often went in on weekends, but Peter understood. He couldn't disappoint his father. Peter also had a lot to do. He had to finish his homework, fight crime and he had to take pictures for the Daily Bugle -- mainly of Spider-Man. Every once in a while, he would submit a "wild shot" to J. Jonah Jameson, to which he would decline, or pass to one of the local stories editors. It was mainly a freelance job, but Jameson demanded photos every week. It paid and that's all that mattered to Peter. 

Peter only had one other incident with the Goblin, but it was almost too quick for Peter to even consider it to count. Spider-Man was near the same spot as he was the last time he saw the Goblin. He saw the quick flash of green past by, heading south towards Wall Street. Spider-Man followed, swinging behind him. He wasn't going to attack unless he knew that either his or someone else's safety was in danger. The closer they got to Wall Street, the faster the Goblin went. It was nearly impossible for Peter to keep up with him. The Goblin, looked back and saw Spider-Man, started to zig-zag between buildings. Peter hurried and tried to cut the Goblin off. Maybe he needed to just confront him ... or maybe that was a bad idea.

But by the time Wall Street and the Charging Bull were in sight ... the Goblin was gone. Peter was stumped. He couldn't believe he chased a man in a metal suit a mile through Manhattan, only so he could check his stocks.

On the other side of Manhattan, Norman was congratulating Harry for keeping on task, ignoring Spider-Man and eyes forward on Wall Street. After the first outside test run, Oscorp realized Harry's focus was effected under the influence of the serum, and could easily be directed to the main task: Catching Spider-Man. By the time they all realized Spider-Man was following Harry, they were about to redirect Harry to safety. But before one of the scientists could even spit out the first direction, Harry turned.

"Harry," Norman said firmly, watching the tracker on the screen jump from street to street. One of the technology directors quickly searched for security cameras to pull up on the other screen, trying to keep all tabs on Harry. But soon, Harry ditched Spider-Man, flew above Wall Street and turned around before Spider-Man knew he was gone.

It was the first time Harry could remember his father saying he was proud of him.

\----------------

The first weekend in October, Harry demanded that Peter took the day off from everything. No Bugle photography, no homework (unless its super important), and for Harry no Oscorp. Peter wasn't sure why Harry was making such a big deal out of a Saturday, they had one last week, but he didn't mind. He just wished he could tell all the villains in NYC to chill for a day. 

Harry picked Peter before lunch. After the last dinner Harry took Peter to, Peter told Harry that the next time they were getting food, Peter was paying. Peter expected them to go to another diner, but Harry took Peter for pizza. And not any pizza, Big Joe's pizza, where it was two bucks for a large slice of pizza. Peter rolled his eyes as he dug out a five dollar bill to pay for their meal.

Harry had a full day planned for the two. After pizza, they went to the zoo, something Peter hasn't done since fifth grade as a class. It was almost a different experience going as a seventeen year old. You had more respect for the bears, who could lay around and sleep as much as they pleased. You could reminiscent on how close you were to a lion, who could take you down in a matter of seconds if it wasn't for the enclosure it was in. And the tropic exhibit was much more than just a place to see few monkeys. There was so much to take in, but such little time as Harry pulled Peter from one exhibit to the next. It didn't help that there were children everywhere, helping the pace move faster.

"Next time we do this, we should take a Tuesday off," Harry told Peter, as he was contemplating fighting his way through children to get a better look at the hippo. Peter could read his face, and wrapped his arm in the hook of Harry's, trying to keep him back in case he decided to follow through. Harry smiled, ruffled Peter's hair with his free hand, before looking back towards the hippo.

After a long afternoon in the park, Harry took Peter to a nice restaurant, something way out of Peter's budget. Harry had already ordered for them Peter figured, as by the time they sat down, the salads were already brought out. And soon, they were followed by steaks and roasted veggies, probably the most delicious piece of red meat Peter had ever had, to which Harry had explained it was an American Waygu steak. And the way Harry explained it, Peter realized that it must have been an expensive slice of meat. He slowed down on how fast he ate.

Once they were finished, the staff came by and picked up their plates, thanking them for coming in. Peter waited for them to drop off the check, but it never came. Harry stood up and pushed his chair in. "Are you coming?' 

"Don't we need to pay?"

"We have a tab here, they'll charge us at the end of the month," Harry explained. Peter stood up, and reached for his wallet to find a tip. "Pete," Harry said, stopping him from tipping. "It's fixed in the check. I got it."

\-------------

After a long day out, the two decided to watch a movie back at Harry's place. Norman was gone for the weekend on a business trip in Europe, so the whole penthouse was for Harry.

It took forever for the boys to decide what they wanted to watch, so they threw on something they've both seen a few times: Star Trek. They both talked about how they were too busy to see the latest film, and they decided to marathon the reboot.

The two started on the opposite sides of the couch, with the arm rest down in between them, but soon, Harry lifted the arm rest and leaned against Peter. The more they watched the movie, the more they both realized they should have jumped into "Into Darkness" or straight into "Beyond" but it was too late. Neither of them wanted to get up or complain. They were stuck in a limbo of a movie they've already seen.

Harry knew that they weren't going to pay attention to the movie. Soon enough, one of them will pull out their phone and all hope is lost. Harry decided if they weren't going to pay attention to the movie, maybe they'll pay attention to each other. He leaned off of Peter and readjusted himself. Peter, who was about to the point of pulling out his phone and checking Twitter, glanced at Harry as he felt his weight shift. Harry leaned in, pressing his lips against Peter's, cupping his cheek gently. Peter was taken by surprised, but soon melted into the kiss. Harry placed his hand behind Peter, helping keep the balance of the two as Peter wrapped his arm around Harry's waist, pulling him closer. Harry couldn't have waited any longer for them to finally have alone time together. Most of the times they hung out, they were in public, or someone was always with them. But now it was just the two of them.

Harry slipped his way between the couch and Peter, finding more comfort on his side as he deepened the kiss. Peter softly moaned, as he kept his arm tightly around Harry. He rested his other hand against Harry's neck, sliding it down to his chest. He almost thought he was dreaming, but soon realized that he wasn't. He pulled away, using his arm as leverage against Harry.

"What the fuck," Peter said gasping for breath. He kept his hand on Harry's chest, trying to remember how much they had to drink. None. Nothing. Nada. Their make out session was completely sober.

"What?" Harry asked confused.

"What do you mean what?" Peter said, probably more confused than Harry is. Peter studied Harry, trying to figure out what he was up to. Peter, who still was holding Harry tight in his arm, could suddenly feel how _excited_ Harry was through the layers of their jeans. Did Harry realize how much Peter liked him ... and using him to his advantage? "Are you using me?"

"What?!" Harry scoffed, pulling out of Peter's grip and sitting up. "What gave you that idea?"

"Then explain that," Peter demanded, getting off the couch. "You know I like you. Are you using me to _fulfill_ you sexually?"

"No! Of course not," Harry said, still confused on what was going on. He studied Peter for a second to see if he was joking. "Pete? I know you like me because we're going out."

"What?" Peter said, raising an eyebrow before shaking it off. "Don't play with me. You never asked me out."

"But I have," Harry said, stepping towards Peter. "I literally asked you out on the first day of school."

"What?" You'd think Peter would remember being asked out by Harry.

"Yeah, I passed you a note about going out that night?" Harry gently took Peter's hand in his. "Dude, we literally went out to the 'Back to School Bash' and then to Flash's."

"That was our first date?" Peter asked, trying to remember anything of that night. He remembers overthinking everything until he couldn't think about anything after drinking way too much Jameson.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I asked you if you told Aunt May if we were going out or if we were sneaking around."

A light bulb finally went off in Peter's head. This explained literally everything Peter over thought about. All the gentle touches Harry gave, the fact that Harry would call him "Babe" every once in a while, or the way he grabbed Peter's hand and held it tight. How did he not realize this sooner.

"Oh fuck," Peter said, leaning his head against Harry's shoulder. "Our first kiss was at Flash's ... and I was too drunk to remember if it actually happened."

Harry laughed, remembering how drunk he was.

"Let me jog your memory," Harry said, snaking his arm around Peter's waist. He lifted Peter's chin up and smiled. "It was something like this." He said as he leaned in to complete the kiss. 

Something didn't feel right. Harry leaned back and softly sighed. "Uh ... Happy one month anniversary."


	8. 'Well, that makes one of us'

The two lay on the den floor, hand-in-hand and sprawled out as Star Trek continued to play in the background, trying to understand what happened over the past month.

It's been over an hour since they discovered that they were both dating and not dating at the same time. Harry swears he's been obvious. Peter promises that he hasn't been, until he starts hearing Harry confirming the ideas he's pushed to the back of his head and ignored for so long.

"Okay, so," Peter huffed. "You picked me up from my house before the bash --"

"On our date," Harry interrupted.

"Okay, but other than the note, how was I to know it was a date?"

"I asked you if Aunt May knew if we were going out or if we were sneaking around."

"Okay --"

"I also referred to you as my date," Harry reminded. "I told Aunt May how cute you looked."

"I would've remembered that," Peter said. 

"Maybe I said nice," Harry shrugged. He remembered talking about how cute Peter looked because he looked cute all the time. "What I don't get is I touch you all the time. Literally, I grab your hand _a lot._ How did you miss that?"

"I didn't miss that," Peter said, glancing to their hands. He remembered every hand holding, even though they never lasted long. He remembered every time Harry ran his hand through Peter's hair, which could happen multiple times a day. But them dating explained how often Harry would rest his hand on Peter's leg. That always made him wonder if Harry knew Peter liked him. He kept trying to find an actual reason that Harry would rest his hand on his leg, maybe it was a mistake and he thought it was his own. Peter would have never guessed that they were dating, and that's why his hand was on his leg. "I thought that's something Europeans do and you picked up on it."

"I would've kissed you more if I pulled 'I studied abroad in Europe so long I picked up their habits' card," Harry rolled his eyes. More at himself for not even thinking about that. He turned his head to glance at Peter, who seemed so confused. Harry was enjoying their relationship, barely a month through, and he was almost at the point to telling Peter that he loved him. (To be fair, he's been ready since the second grade). Peter, on the other hand, was spending time with his best friend, not his boyfriend. "What are we now?" Harry asked quietly. "Are we still dating?"

Peter studied Harry, unsure how serious he was. Peter still wondered if Harry was trying to use him. "I ... don't know."

Harry felt hurt. He was hoping for a more definite answer. Maybe he was wrong the entire time to assume that they were dating. He slowly pulled his hand away from Peter and sat up quietly. "I think I need some time to think," He stood up. He needed to think, to cool off. "I'm ... uh ... going to take a shower. If you want to stay, you're welcome. If you need to leave," Harry ran his fingers through his own hair, trying to keep calm. "I get it." Harry walked away from Peter in the den.

Harry stood, underneath the stream of steaming hot water, as he tried to clear his mind. He thought he was open about their relationship, keeping it low at school to Peter's request. Now, he had to figure out what everything this past month meant. What did Peter want to keep low key if he didn't mean their relationship? Did Peter even like Harry in the same way? 

Harry leaned his head against the wall. He thought back to Dakota, the boy he dated last year. Dakota was hurt every time Harry accidentally called him Peter. He said that it felt like they weren't even dating if Harry couldn't get his mind off of Peter. And now that he could focus on Peter -- date Peter -- Peter doesn't want to date him. Harry closed his eyes, focusing on the water pressure against his bare skin. It was foolish of him to think that Peter would want to date him, and would accept to go out with him on the first day of school. Harry was too eager and ended up ruining everything. Harry huffed and unraveled. He needs to accept: That they're not dating, that Peter didn't want to date him, that tears were streaming down his face. 

Harry stayed in the shower until the steaming heat turned cold. He turned off the water, and grabbed the towel off the rack. He buried his face into the towel, partially to dry, partially to help prepare him to go back into the den. He couldn't read Peter. He didn't know if he was going to stay or leave. Harry wouldn't judge him if he left. He wrapped the towel around him and went to put on clothes.

*****

"Hare -- " Peter sat up, calling Harry as he left the den to shower. Harry was hurt, and it was Peter's fault.

Peter knew if he tells Harry that he wants to date him, everything will change. They won't be best friends anymore, they'll be boyfriends. And what if they break up? What's going to happen to their friendship then? When will Peter tell him about Spider-Man? Peter sighed before laying back down. He waited months before he told Gwen ... and her father died that night. Not at fault that he told her or, at least, that's what Peter keeps telling himself. What's going to keep Harry from being hurt next? Harry already had a target on his back, being the heir to Oscorp, so why should Peter drag him into this?

Peter pushed himself off the ground and gathered his stuff. Maybe Harry's right. Maybe he should go. He slung his bookbag over his shoulder and walked towards the door. He glanced back towards the long hallway, to which lead to Harry's room. He tried to move out the door, but his heart felt like there was a string attached to it, not allowing him to move any farther away from the anchor.

He dropped his bag to the floor. Peter couldn't leave. Not yet. He sat on the couch, playing on his phone, waiting for Harry to get out of the shower and re-enter the long hallway from his room.

******

Harry dried his hair with his towel before tossing it aside. He took a deep breath before opening the door, expecting to see an empty den.

Instead, he saw Peter sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. Peter looked up and softly smiled. He got up and walked to him. Harry, who wanted to wrap Peter up in his arms, just waited for Peter to come to him. "I'm sorry I was a dick -- " Harry tried to apologize before Peter wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and gently kissed him.

"I'm sorry I'm dumb," Peter whispered, pressing his forehead against Harry's. "If you're interested in dating me still -- "

"I've _always_ been interested in dating you," Harry smiled, bringing his hand up to gently caress Peter's cheek. He's going to assume if Peter's staying and asking if he's still interested that means it might be a good time to ask him out ... again. "Pete, I'd really like it if you would be my boyfriend." Harry blushed a little, worried about how Peter would perceive that. "I mean, we don't have to do anything you don't want to, we can start from the beginning again, since you missed the first month."

"I'd like that," Peter laughed. He stepped back from Harry and grabbed his hand. He led him to the den. "Come on, let's watch Star Trek."

"Okay," Harry smiled, following Peter. "Do we want to start 'Into Darkness' or skip straight to 'Beyond'?"

"Actually," Peter said, picking up the remote and directed the DVD to restart. The movie kicked back on as Peter wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, leading him back to the couch. "I think we should watch this one, again."

"Again?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. Peter nodded, as he pulled Harry onto the couch with him. "Again," Peter smirked as he leaned up and kissed Harry. He ran his fingers through Harry's damp hair, something he's wanted to do since the first day of school. Harry, at first, was confused. They nearly were bored with the movie the first time they watched it, so why watch it a second time? That was, until he was pulled on top of Peter and Peter kissed him. _Now he understands._

Harry pulled away. "Hey, I have to be honest for a second," He bit his lip for a second, hesitating. "Before we started dating two minutes ago, I ... uh ... was planning on blowing you tonight." Harry blushed, feeling a little awkward after admitting that. "But that was also when I thought we've been dating for a while -- "

"You said we've been dating for a month."

"Yeah, and I've only had one relationship longer than that," Harry said. "And I kept calling him by your name."

Peter blushed for two reasons. One: He didn't realize that he was that important to Harry that he would call others by his name. And two: He figured Harry was more experienced than him, but he didn't realize he had also dated guys. "If you don't mind me asking, how long did you know ... you were ... into -- "

"Guys?" Harry completed Peter's sentence. "It depends on what you mean. I realized I could actually date guys when I was at the business prep school in England. So ... seventh grade?" Harry thought of the chain of events that lead up to Norman sending him away to England. "But I'm pretty sure I knew I liked you in elementary school." 

"Really?" Peter felt his cheeks turn red. He didn't realize how long Harry had liked him. Especially after listing all the girls he dated earlier this semester. Peter had felt jealous of every one of those girls ... but maybe they were jealous of him without actually knowing Peter. "Do you remember that one lunch we had and we discussed everyone we've dated?" Harry nodded. "What about all those girls you mentioned?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you said you dated them."

"Yeah?"

"But you're into --"

"Pete," Harry laughed, laying his head against his chest. "I'm bisexual. I'm pretty sure that half those names were guys, too. I wouldn't leave them out. I'm an open book." Mainly. Pete smiled, loving how open Harry was being about past relationships. Peter would share, too, if he had dated more than just Gwen Stacy. He tangled his fingers in the back of Harry's hair.

"I ... uh ... only dated Gwen Stacy," Peter said, almost nervously. "So I have some _experience_ , but not a lot. And mainly, just with Gwen. So, if you want me to get tested or anything -- "

"Wait. You're not a virgin?" Harry leaned up, off of Peter.

Peter blushed. "Nope."

"Well, that makes one of us," Harry mumbled, as he leaned back down on Peter's chest.

"Wait, what?" He swore Harry had listed off several people he's dated. He was sure he had slept with a few of them. 

"I've haven't had sex with anyone, yet," Harry confirmed. "I mean, I've done _some_ stuff, but in all technicality, I'm still a virgin."

"And you're going to blow me?"

"Not anymore," Harry laughed. "I was going to when it was our anniversary, but we _just started_ dating."

"Fuck me," Peter groaned, leaning back into the pillows. He was only half-joking. 

"That's a three-month anniversary milestone, babe."


	9. 'Think "New Hero in Town" '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real fiction here is the fact that the editor-in-chief/publisher is in the newsroom on a weekend.
> 
> — your friendly daily copy editor

As much as Peter wanted to stay the night at his boyfriend's home (Peter internally: !!!!!), Harry took him home close to 10 p.m. at Peter's request. If they were going to be in a relationship, they were going to take it a slow pace ... or that's at least, what Peter is trying to convince himself to do. It's easier said than done, especially when your boyfriend admits he was going to blow you on what was supposed to be your one-month anniversary date.

After Harry dropped him off, Peter checked the police scanner to see if there was anything big happening in the city. Surprisingly, no sign of distress. A couple of beat cops called for backup to check a local store robbery, but neither of them sounded too concerned about being in danger. Peter turned off the scanner and lay down in bed. Maybe Peter could take a Saturday off for once in his Spider-Man career. That would be nice.

And it was nice. Sucks that he couldn't take the Sunday off, too. He actually had quite a bit of homework that needed to be done before second period Monday, but maybe he'll work through the first. He'll have to deal with that later.

Right now, he was trying to stop a nearly-indestructible get away car. Peter started to wonder if it happened to belong to the secret service, because there was no way a car like this was on the market.

Peter had to think fast. He had to pull pedestrians, who were following the cross walk light, out of the way, while he tried to stay on top of the car, dodging bullets that the driver shot through the roof. 

"Y'know, attempting to kill someone changes your crime from a misdemeanor to a felony, right?" Spider-Man thought about that for a second. "Oh, never mind. So does stealing over 55,000 dollars worth of jewelry. Honestly, who does that?" As Peter dodged the next bullet, he felt something extremely hot touch his rib cage. He touched his hand to his side, noticing the sudden blood on his glove. "Dude, not cool." He quickly covered the laceration left from the bullet skidding his skin with a bit of webbing before creating a net in front of the car. He jumped off, as he watched the car vigorously trying to penetrate the web. Peter stood back and waited for the man to give up, and get out of the car. That is, until he noticed the car making it's way through the web.

He tangled a web in the axle of the back tires, which turned out to be a mistake. The car, being a rear-wheel drive, pulled Spider-Man towards the car quickly. He had to think fast before he was squished on the back windshield. He quickly leaned upwards, grabbing onto a street light, pulling both himself and the car in a lateral position. Once he connected the separate web strands, he quickly jumped down, running after the driver who had escaped from the car, deciding that it wasn't worth it being caught in the car, red handed. Peter shot webs at the man, tangling his feet together and pulling him backwards. The man fell, slamming his face against the pavement. "That's payback," Spider-Man said, wincing as the pain started to sink in. "Dude, that really wasn't cool, I wish you didn't do that."

"And I wished I was on a beach in Barbados, but you don't hear me complainin'," the man spat as Spider-Man dragged him back towards the car.

"I actually heard that tourism isn't good for the Caribbean countries. I hear it takes a lot of money from the locals because tourists spend their money on American-, British- and French-owned tourist spots."

"I don't need an economics lesson," the man rolled his eyes. Spider-Man sent another web strand up the street light, and started to lift the man upwards to the car.

"How about a basic life lesson?" Spider-Man said, finally content with the height the man was at. Sirens started to pick up in the distance. "The more you steal, the more time in jail." And off, Spider-Man went.

\------------

After the run in with the jewelry thief, Peter went to go find his camera that he had left out. He had hoped that he had triggered the motion sensor shutter release. Maybe he could show J. Jonah Jameson that Spider-Man wasn't a bad guy after all. But he knew that was hardly going to happen.

He sat on the edge of the building, going through the photos as the police scanner searched for some other excitement. He was happy with some of the photos, most of them came out blurry thanks to the car's high speed. But he had caught the aftermath well. As he quickly scrolled through the photos, he noticed one that lacked his iconic red and blue suit or the solid bluish-gray of the cityscape. Instead, the photo focused on the dark green figure. It's been at least three weeks since he's seen the Goblin past through, and here he was. On his screen in high resolution.

He looked at the time on his phone. 3:34 p.m. He had plenty of time before deadline. The Daily Bugle was a morning paper, and if Peter wanted to get his photos in color, he should hand the editors a printed copy of the photo by 6. Which means, he needed to be there by 5. Plenty of time.

Peter decided he'd wait another hour before heading towards the Bugle. He set his camera up again, just in case the Goblin came by again, and maybe he could get some action shots between the two. He was sure that he would be highly compensated for them.

As soon as he set his camera up, his phone off. He was sure it was Jameson, demanding photos of the robbery, but to his delight it was Harry.

_H: Want to come over for pizza? Norman's treat._

_P: Can we make it a study date? I haven't finished hw yet._

_H: It's going to be hard to do with alcohol but sure_

Peter could feel himself blush underneath his mask. He wanted to remember their date this time.

_P: I haven't recovered from last time_

_H: I'll make kid friendly drinks too_

_P: Ha. Funny._

Peter packed up his stuff. If he was going, he needed to take this photos to Bugle: Stat. Plus, he needed a shower, and a proper bandaged for his side.

Peter winced. He better remember to keep his shirt on, or else Harry's going to be worried and ask questions. Peter better stick to the kid-friendly drinks tonight.

\----------

At the Bugle, Peter quickly went back to the "darkroom" which for the Bugle's digital-focused photography meant a slightly blocked off corner and a Mac desktop, set aside specifically for the photographers. He pulled out the SD card from his camera and plugged it into the card reader and started to load through the photos.

"Did you happen to get any of that chase?" One of the editors, Aaron, called, peering over the sad cubicle divider. "Heard it over the scanner. 487. We actually had to look it up before we called the reporter."

"Uh, yeah. Got a few of Spider-Man on the car and then the car stuck on a street light," Peter said, opening several files. Luckily, before he left, the theft and the car were still hanging up, waiting for the police below to cut them down. Peter, out of costume, took a few pictures.

"He wrecked?" Editor Aaron asked, concerned. He didn't hear that on the scanner.

"No, he was stuck." Peter loaded the photos onto the computer and started putting them into the system. He printed them out in black and white and handed them to the editor. He figured with the Spider-Man photos, those wouldn't be on the front page. "I didn't catch a name, I'm running late."

"We'll figure it out soon," Editor Aaron said, sighing a little. He hoped the reporter caught the name, or else they might have to hold the photo. 

Peter printed out the Spider-Man photos and quickly made his way to Jonah J. Jameson's office, who somehow always looks annoyed at Peter.

"Got more of that menace?" Peter handed them over quickly and waited for him to look them over. Jameson took his time, mumbling "Crap," "Blurry," "I've seen better," and other insults.

"These were a part of the grand theft car chase that happened," Peter explained. "I handed the end results to -- "

"Who's this?" Jameson asked, turning around a photo of the Goblin.

"Uh ... I'm not sure," Peter said, nervously. "He ... was flying around on the glider while I was taking photos. Thought I'd shoot one of him and see what you think."

"Got a name for him?"

"No sir," Peter took a peer at the photo. "He's kind of a olive green color, gold eyes ... He kind of looks like a Swamp Monster."

"Or a goblin," Jameson said, looking over the photo. "This is front page. You can hand the Spider-Man photos to Aaron." Jameson handed the print outs back to Peter as he went to today's lead editor, handing him the Goblin photo. "Got something interesting for ya. Think, 'New Hero In Town' or 'Goblin here to stop Spider-Menace.' "

"Is he even here to stop Spider-Man?" Peter asked, handing the Spider-Man photos Editor Aaron. "I mean, I didn't catch him doing anything, just flying."

"He's not causing trouble like Spider-Man is he?" Jameson asked rhetorically. "No." He turned back to lead editor. "Parker says he looks like a swamp monster. I say a goblin. No official name, yet."

"He looks like hell," the lead copy editor said, looking at the photo. He turned to his computer and brought it up digitally. The glowing yellow eyes sent shivers down Peter's back, reminding him of his first meet with the Goblin. The editor then Googled images of goblins. "He does look more like a goblin than a swamp monster. If he had moss or something, I'd get behind you. Sorry, Parker."

"Try to keep an eye out for him, Parker," Jameson said, patting Peter on the back. "New York is needing some good and if we can't get it from our local police force, then who will give it to us?"

Peter was dead inside.

Soon as he got home, he checked the website. The new lead headline read: "Goblin to save city from sticky situation." The only good part about the article is that it only ran a few inches long, since there was nothing to actually report on. 

Either way, Peter needed to jump in the shower and get his mind off of his eventful day. He had a pizza date planned.


	10. 'Call me "Mom" again, that was kind of hot'

"So how much homework do you actually have?"

Peter set his bag on the kitchen island. Peter always forgets how big Harry's house is. His kitchen was bigger than Peter's living room. "Government, Calculus, Reading for English, Reading for Calculus and we have a group project to do for Energy."

"Oh shit yeah," Harry said, sitting on a bar stool. "Is tomorrow an 'B' day?"

"No, it's 'A'."

"Alright then let's do Government and Energy, but let's make pizza first," he slid off the stool and made his way around the island to set out the ingredients.

"Make pizza? I thought we were doing delivery?" Harry handed him a metal bowl. Peter lifted the cling wrap to poke the already made dough.

"Nope," he pulled out a few more ingredients, including tomatoes, mozzarella and sausage.  "I figured we do it the old fashion way. This is actually one of Norman's recipes."

"Shout out to Norman," Peter said nonchalantly. "Is he here?"

"Nope," Harry said, setting the ingredients on the counter. He went to the kitchen windowsill to pick fresh basil leaves. "He's flying in tomorrow morning. Which is fine with me."

"I kind of thought you guys were on good terms?" Peter asked, as he picked up the mozzarella chunk. It looked expensive, and as guilty as he feels about eating something that probably costs more than what he makes at the Daily Bugle, he was going to pick off a piece and taste it. And man, did it taste expensive. And they were going to use this on pizza?

"I mean kind of," Harry said, laying the basil leaves on the counter. "I just ... uh ... " Harry bit his lip, trying to think of the right way to phrase it. "You remember how I told you I was an open book?"

"Yeah?"

"I uh haven't told Norman that we're dating yet," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I really do mean to. Don't get me wrong, I'll tell any New Yorker that we're dating. It's just ... " He sighed. " _Different_ with Norman."

"What do you mean?' Peter knew Harry better. He's sarcastic and ready to share his opinion with everyone. He couldn't count the times that Harry was able to tell Norman off in front of him when they were younger. Harry was always scolded after he did so. It always made Peter feel a little uncomfortable, but he couldn't imagine Harry keeping like this a secret for so long. He knew other people have to do it for their safety, but Harry wasn't afraid of anything.

Harry pulled the clay pizza stone out of the preheated oven and placing it on the table. He took the olive oil off the counter and lightly drizzled the stone. "I mean he wouldn't take it well," Harry shrugged, reaching for the metal bowl in Peter's hand. Peter handed it over and watched as Harry took it out and gently started to knead the dough flat.

"I see -- "

"I told him I thought I was gay in junior high," Harry said, kneading the dough a little harder. "And he sent me away to boarding school. Couldn't have a gay thirteen year old walking around New York, right? Oh no, not with the Osborn legacy. That's just not how it Norman sees it. Married to work but have an affair with a trophy wife, have a son to put him through the same bullshit as his father," Harry huffed, as he punched the dough hard enough that it cracked the clay pizza stone underneath.

Harry turned around and ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about where another pizza pan is. He went to the other side of the kitchen and pulled out a flat pan. He needed to remind himself that he needed to stay calm. He had to remind himself that serum affects his emotions and his adrenaline was already raised. He softly sighed, calming himself. He turned around to face Peter, sincerely apologetic for his reaction. "I'm sorry, I interrupted -- "

"Hare," Peter said softly as he walked over to Harry and wrapped his arms around him. "You have every right to react that way. I didn't realize that's why you went to England." Harry set the pan on the counter and relaxed into Peter's embrace. He laid his head against Peter's shoulder. He wished he didn't use his energy out on the pizza stone. He wished he didn't blow up like that in front of Peter. He wished he did better. "You know what's important?"

"What's that?" Harry asked, lifting his head off of Peter's shoulder.

"You're here now," Peter ran his fingers through Harry's hair, slightly covered in flour from the dough. " _We're_ here now. Let's enjoy this." Harry nodded as he pulled away from the hug. He grabbed Peter's hand and the pan and lead him the five feet back to the island counter.

After peeling the dough off the broken pizza stone and any pieces of clay out of the dough, Harry taught Peter how to make the "Osborn famous" pizza, which in reality was a Margherita pizza, with ground Italian sausage. 

"Technically," Harry said over his shoulder, while browning the sausage, towards Peter, who was cutting up the tomatoes. "The tomatoes are supposed to be made with San Marzano tomatoes, which are grown on the side of Mount Vesuvius in Italy, and the mozzarella cheese is supposed to be made from water buffalo milk raised in west Italian marshlands in an almost-wild environment."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Harry said, making sure all of the sausage browns evenly. "It's actually really good."

"You've had some?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, moving the pan off the heat and turning the stove top off. "My grandmother actually lives in Campania. I went up there two years ago?" He thought about it. "Yeah, two years ago. It was for the summer."

"So is this Grandma Osborn's recipe?"

"Nope. Dad learned the recipe from Nonna Lyman, he just spiced it up a bit," Harry said, moving the pan off the heat. "My mom is actually half Italian. Nonna and Poppa actually lived in New York for a while. After Poppa and mom died, Nonna moved back to Italy. She said that New York reminded her too much of what she lost." Harry looked at Peter, who still was cutting the tomatoes. "Hey, watch your fingers." He reached over and moved the knife out of Peter's hand, who was pretty close to slicing off the tips of his fingers.

"Oops," Peter said, as he brushed the last of the tomato slices into the pile he created. While listening to Harry talk, he realized it was the most he actually heard of Harry talk about his mom, even if it was just a mention. He couldn't remember the exact age they were when she passed away ... six? seven? They weren't ten yet, he remembered that. He couldn't remember what she did or what she looked like. He remembered her being busy a lot, but he also remembered her being around a lot. 

"So does that mean you speak Italian?"

"Vorrei scoparti su questo tavolo, ... ma aspetterò," Harry said, smirking.

"I ... honestly have no clue what that means," Peter said, unsure what he was actually expecting Harry to say. He'd also expected Harry to say a very basic sentence, to which Peter's one year of Spanish would help out, but that's what he gets for assuming a guy in the top Latin class to not be fluent in Italian.

"It means," Harry said, wrapping his arms around Peter's waist and gently kissed his neck. "We need to take the crust out of the oven and put the toppings on."

"I don't think you're telling the truth but I'll accept it," Peter smirked, extending his neck against Harry's gentle touches. He could stay here forever in Harry's arms for forever if he could.

Except Harry actually pulled away after one last kiss to pull the crust out of the oven. Maybe he wasn't lying.

"Okay," Harry started. "So we drizzle the olive oil," he said as he already drizzled the olive oil. "Then the tomatoes and mozzarella, and then we top with sausage and basil." He reached behind him and grabbed the mozzarella, signaling for Peter to bring the tomatoes.

"Anywhere?" Peter said, as he picked up his cutting board to take the tomatoes to the pizza.

"Yup." To which Peter tried to evenly dump the tomatoes. Harry strategically placed the mozzarella slices, as he did with the sausage. Peter noticed this and tried to mimic Harry with the basil, making sure that they were almost evenly distributed across the pizza. Harry slipped the pizza into the oven and smiled as he set an alarm on his phone. "So we have eight minutes."

"Okay," Peter said, thinking that they had an eight minute start on homework before food time.

Harry, on the other hand, had a different idea. He wrapped his arms around Peter and pressed his forehead against Peter's. "Do you know what we could do in eight minutes."

"I'm assuming whatever we're going to do is better than getting a jump start on Energy."

"Oh shit I forgot we had homework."

"Forget it," Peter said, as he leaned in and completed their kiss. Harry had inched them out of the kitchen and into the living room, with the end goal the couch. He broke their kiss and moved his lips back onto Peter's neck, kissing softly. He slipped one of his hands underneath Peter's shirt, craving to touch his skin. His fingers slide his way up Peter's ribcage, brushing against a large bandage. Peter flinched.

"Ow," Peter said, jerking away and putting his hand on his side. He suddenly remembered the wild afternoon he had today, chasing a criminal across town. The bandage covered a small graze from a bullet shot toward him, but luckily it was already partially healed. Just sensitive to touch.

"I'm so sorry," Harry quickly apologized. He over stepped his boundary, and should've made sure it was okay. "I didn't realize --"

"No you're fine," Peter said, grabbing Harry's hands and pulling him back in. "You didn't know."

"I just barely touched it," Harry said softly, eyes glancing down at Peter's side. "Did you put antibiotics on it? Do you want me to check it out?"

"No, it's fine," Peter said, resting his head against Harry's shoulder. "I'm fine."

"What happened?" Harry was kind of worried it was from Flash, but he also thought Flash was being less of a physical douche this year.

"Subway accident," Peter spat out, a lot quicker than he meant to. "I mean it was my fault ... I shouldn't have been skateboarding when I knew there were stairways and rat-infested tunnels." 

"Are you sure it's not needing antibiotics?"

"I already put Neosporin on it, Mom," Peter jokingly rolled his eyes. "I'm fine ... I promise."

Harry studied Peter for a second, making sure he was truly alright.

"Call me 'Mom' again, that was kind of hot," Harry said, almost nonchalantly. Peter rolled his eyes and pulled away, walking back into the kitchen. He was going to do his homework if Harry was going to pull this shit on him. "Better yet, call me 'Daddy,' " Harry called after him. "I have dad issues, so I probably have a dad kink."

"Fuck me," Peter groaned.

"I'm trying not to."


	11. 'I'm fond of you, too, Harry'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The most unrealistic part is where the actors behaved and did exactly what they were told." -- the Bestie, stage manager

Norman Osborn met the love of his life in the fall of his sophomore year at Columbia University. He was studying chemistry and electrical engineering. He had a legacy to live up to and exceed. He had a few business classes scheduled, to help him keep on track. He spent most of his free time studying. His roommate would often have to drag him out to get him to socialize. He wasn't sure why though, Norman was attractive, so it shouldn't be hard for him to get some action, and here he was, setting him up on a blind date.

She was an actress, Norman remembered Charlie telling him. Beautiful, blonde, tall, big breasts. But Norman couldn't remember Charlie saying her name.

And she had play practice until 5:30, which is when he was supposed to pick her up. And here he stood, like an idiot, at the back of one of Juilliard's theaters, searching for the girl he was supposed to take out tonight.

"Your tie is lopsided." A short, dark haired girl approached him.

"What?"

"Your tie," She gestured to his tie. "It's lopsided." She rolled her eyes, as it seemed like Norman wasn't going to fix it himself. She reached up and undid his knot, only to retie it and even it out. She stepped back and crossed her arms. "Do you need someone?"

"Uh ... "

"We're in the middle of practice," She stated, gesturing to the actors, setting the stage. "If you're needing to talk to an actor, it can wait."

"Can I wait in here?" Norman asked. Normally, he wouldn't take no for an answer. He at least would want to know how long he was going to have to wait, especially since it was already time for them to head to the reservation. But the way this girl took charge, made him a little nervous ... but he wasn't going to show that.

The girl bit her lip. She knew he wasn't supposed be in here, but she wouldn't mind it. "Oh, alright," She said, rolling her eyes, playing it off. "But don't cause a ruckus." She had worked her way back to the stage, picking up her notebook along the way. She had talked to a few of the actors, pointing to various objects on the stage and gave them instructions. As soon as she sat back down next to another person, the actors fell into place. And almost like clockwork, they fell into the rhythm of the play. And as instructed, each one went to an object that she pointed at, mimicking the way that she had directed them to carry such object. As he watched, he realized that none of the actors could possibly be the blonde girl he was supposed to pick up ... since it was an all male cast. But as the scene went on, Norman realized he didn't care and he couldn't get his mind of the girl in charge.

An hour passed, and the man Norman assumed was the director called it a day. The girl called for the actors to reset, and the actors but their props back into place. She set her notebook down on the stage and walked back to Norman, making Norman extremely nervous.

With the house lights back on, he could actually see her face. Her light brown hair perfectly framed her heart-shaped face. Her vivid blue eyes filled with determination.The pencil behind her ear was a nice touch, too.

"Did you enjoy it?" She asked.

"Actually, yeah," Norman said. He wasn't one for plays, but the more he thought about how much power went into it, his appreciation grew.

"So who are you looking for?"

"What?"

"You need to talk to someone?" She asked, a little confused since that's why he came in here. Norman glanced at his watch. It was too late to make their reservations. He might as well skip on the blind date, if he could even find the girl. 

"It's not relevant anymore," Norman shrugged. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"For a free showing," the girl rolled her eyes as she started to walk away.

"Wait," Norman called. "I didn't get your name."

The girl looked over her shoulder, "And why would you want it?"

"Because ... I'd like to take you on a date sometime," Norman said. "And I need to know who I should ask for when I call."

"Or we could go out for gelato right now and I don't have to tell you my name," she said, smirking. 

"Hey Emily!" Someone called from the stage. "Where does the croquet bats go?"

She rolled her eyes and turned on her heels. "Where do you think?" The actor shrunk in size as he went behind stage to put the bat on the props table.

"So Emily," Norman smirked. "Want to go get gelato?"

Norman learned a lot about Emily Lyman over gelato. She was a junior attending Juilliard. She's studying to be a playwright, but also focuses on acting. What he walked in on was her student directing sophomore students around. She rolled her eyes at that, though. She was supposed to be student directing, but she feels like she's stage managing since the professor won't let her direct. She's born and raised in New York; Her father's from Brooklyn and her mother's from Italy. She speaks fluent Italian. She's sarcastic and funny and knows how to give orders. If Norman was ever going to marry someone, he was going to marry this woman in front of him.

\---------------

When Harry was young and Osborn Corporation kicking off the ground, his father would go to Wall Street every week to talk to different investment banks to help get the industry funded. Norman had the funds, born in rich family. His father was Amberson Osborn, one of America's greatest industrialists during the 1960s, but Norman's business must be have Wall Street funding to expand his business farther than just robotics. Before Harry was born, Oscorp had created some of the best prosthetics on the market. They were light-weight, minimal and, for the leg prosthetics specifically, the joints bent with ease. As they went on, they were near ready to be fully functional, too. They just needed neurological technology, and Norman could only get that by expanding.

Harry didn't know which buildings his father went into, it seemed like he went into them all. He was in meeting after meeting, but thankfully, his mom always loved coming down to Wall Street with them. Four-year-old Harry wasn't sure what he'd do without his mom.

"Come 'on, mamma. We gotta go before bull moves," the four-year-old demanded as he dragged his poor mother down the sidewalk of Broadway. As much as he wanted to go sprinting down the sidewalks, he knew that there were too many people and he was afraid if he did that, his mom would be lost in New York and she wouldn't find her way home. His dad would spank him.

"I don't think it's going to move any time soon," Emily laughed. 

"Dad says the bull sat there without asking," Harry explained to his mother, who was familiar with Arturo Di Modica's work. "Wall Street's gonna ask him to leave."

"I think Wall Street has grown fond of him. To them, I think he means strength and perseverance," She said, smiling as she watched her boy grow with delight as he saw the bull in the distance. Harry, who wanted to bolt toward the bull held onto his mom's hand tightly. He couldn't let go of her when they got closer. There's too much of a crowd. "And I see you grew fond of him, too."

"I'm not fond of him," Harry said, trying to roll his eyes. "I love him."

"It's a synonym to love," Emily explained, picking him up as they approached the crowd of tourists around the statue. "That means fond and love have similar meanings."

"Well," Harry said. "I'm fond of you."

Emily laughed, "I'm fond of you, too, Harry."

\-----------

Harry remembers all the trips his mother took him on Broadway. More than just the Charging Bull. She took him to his first Broadway show on his fifth birthday. His father was supposed to join, until an important meeting was rescheduled suddenly. Emily Osborn, who normally was quick to reschedule to include Norman, couldn't do that this time. Harry was excited to see the Lion King and to call a rain check suddenly would break his heart. 

"Norman Scott Osborn, you will be taking us out for dessert tonight," Emily softly demanded Norman as she fixed his tie. Once the knot was secure and the tie straightened, she sighed sweetly. "Mr. Osborn, what would you do without me."

"I'd have to wear tacky clip-ons," Norman joked. Emily pushed his shoulder.

"You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't have anyone to tie them for me."

"You did have a tie-life before me," Emily rolled her eyes. "I remember because you wore an olive one on our first date. Lopsided, too."

"I was running late."

"You always are." Emily softly kissed Norman's cheek. "The show runs about two and a half hours, with one intermission. So pick us up about 5:30?"

"I thought it started at two," Norman raised an eyebrow.

"It does. We're taking a back-stage tour," Emily grinned. "I thought it was time for Harry to see what it's like back stage, if he's going to be an actor, like his mother."

"Not a world-renowned engineer?" Norman chucked. They constantly teased each other about what Harry will grow up to be. 

"Well, his mother didn't go to school for engineering."

"But wouldn't it be great for Oscorp to be a family business?" Norman always took their teasing a little more to heart than Emily did.

"Or he could be garbage truck driver, for all we know," Emily said, reminding Norman that Harry will have agency over his choices. "Anyway, we're checking out back stage. You're welcome to join us, if you get out of your meeting early."

"I'll see you close to 5:30," Norman said, pressing a soft kiss against Emily's forehead.

\----------------

Harry remembers holding his mom's hand when they buried his Poppa when he was six. He was sick, she explained. The doctors couldn't do much, except take the pain away.

Harry remembers holding his Nonna's hand when they buried his mom when he was eight. She was sick. The doctors couldn't do much, couldn't take her pain away.

Harry remembers holding his dad's hand as they walked his Nonna to her plane. Nonna was moving back to Campania with her sister. She didn't say it at the time, but the city kept bringing her sadness. She needed to go home. She told Harry he needed to visit her. "Every summer," she said, smoothing his hair down. And he did, for two weeks every June, arriving on the third, his mom's birthday, and leaving on the 17th, the day they buried her.

Harry remembers how quiet the house was without her singing. She had just started her job again, she didn't get to go back on Broadway like she told him she was going to.

Harry remembers his father being a work a lot more. Bernard, who was the Osborn's family driver and had only been the house keeper on rare occasions, now worked full-time as their butler. He didn't mind, as it paid more and he helped make sure that someone was taking care of Harry during this time of grief. Most of the times, Harry was fine with a grilled cheese or Tyson's chicken nuggets, as long as they were dinosaur shaped.

Harry remembers the first time he went over to the Parker's house after his mom passed. It had been a month since they last seen each other, unusual summer for the two. As soon as Harry knocked at the door, Peter answers and pulls him straight into a hug. Harry didn't say anything, but it had felt like the first genuine hug he's had in weeks. They went inside and played like normal, smiles and giggles, no talks of Harry's mom.

\---------

Harry woke up in night sweats. His body felt paralyzed as he could feel his heart beating in his throat. He bit his lip, trying not to scream, as he could feel his blood trying to break down the serum in his body. It would start in his calves, an intense burning sensation, working its way up to his thighs and hips, along his rib cage and spine to his arms. Once he could regain control of his muscles, he quickly rolled over and made his way to the bathroom, vomiting. He hurt everywhere.

He slide down to the cool ceramic tile. Every new sense brought back a flash of a memory, focusing from one thought to another. He found it hard to breathe as the memories piled in. The tiles reminded him of the kitchen he played on as a toddler, before they moved out of the house. He could hear his mother's shoes, clacking as she prepared a snack for him. Harry tries to smell what she was making, taking a huge whiff of the smell of vomit. 

He remembered the hospital. The floors were similar tiles. The halls smelt like chemicals. He could hear his mother moaning in pain in the distance. "Momma," Harry tried calling, barely getting a rasp out of his voice. He tried to pick himself up, but fell back to the ground. He remembered navigating the halls of an off-Broadway theater, trying to find his mother's dressing room. A lost child, trying to find his way in New York City. He remembered seeing the Charging Bull at Wall Street for the first time staring him down, almost intimidating. He remembers his mother's voice, "I think he means strength and perseverance."

Harry leaned his head back against the shower door. He tried focus on his breathing.

"Strength," Harry softly said, as he pushed himself off the floor and leaned against the counter. He dug into the drawer, pulling out a small green vile. He pulled off the cap, lining the needle up to his vein. "And perseverance," He exhaled as he pushed the needle gently through his skin, and pumped the serum back into his blood. 


	12. 'So, I'm not in trouble?'

Peter was worried.

It's an 'A'  day, and he hasn't seen Harry all morning. Their schedule is completely the same and Harry's missing. He tried texting him, but he didn't get a response. His first instinct was that he was in trouble and needed to be saved. So his entire first class of the day was spent in anxiety, until he talked himself out of it.

Maybe he came down with the flu, or had a doctor's appointment. Which concerned him just as well, mainly because they had a group project after lunch, and Harry had half the material. Maybe they won't have to go today if Harry's MIA. Thinking of the phrase "Missing in Action" brings back his first class anxiety. He laid his head on the desk, groaning.

"Mr. Parker," Mr. Greenwich said. "I know it's hard to be awake after sleeping all weekend, but material properties are an extremely important factor in engineering."

"I understand," Peter said sheepishly, picking his head up, forgetting he was in class.

At lunch, Peter was a little concerned because he didn't know where to sit. Would it still be alright to sit next to Flash and O'Reilly if he wasn't with Harry? Should he find the yearbook committee and play off sitting next to them by asking if they need someone to take photos for Homecoming? He sighed softly and sat at an empty table. He just needed to eat his food then go prepare for death in Energy and the Environment. He had to try to make the powerpoint from scratch, and remember half the points they came up with yesterday. Or maybe he should pretend he's sick and hide in the nurse's office.

"Hey, why do you look like your dying inside?"

Peter looked up to see Harry sit down, two coffees in hand. "Oh thank God," Peter said, relaxing.

"Jeez," Harry said, setting one of the cups in front of Peter. "I didn't realize how much caffeine meant to you."

"No, it's not that," Peter said. "I mean it helps, but it's mainly you."

"Thanks," Harry said smirking. "I mean it's only been ... what? Ten hours? What are you going to do on "B' days?"

"What?" Peter asked confused. "That's not what I meant. And it's been more than just ten hours. I haven't seen you all morning. I took shit notes during Principles so I hope you weren't hoping you could copy --"

"Wait what?" Harry looked more confused than Peter did.

"I took shit notes," Peter explained. "I was a little worried about you and the fact that you didn't text me back --"

"What do you mean all morning?" Harry asked. "I literally just got here."

"Yeah."

The two sat in silence for half a minute before Harry spoke up again.

"It's barely 8 a.m.," he stated. "You're literally eating breakfast, how did I miss all --" Harry looked at Peter's "breakfast" which consisted of a mystery meatloaf, green beans and an apple. He glanced around the lunch room to notice other people had similar meals, and none of them included cereal or powdered eggs.

"Hare, it's noon," Peter said softly. "Did you over sleep? Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah ... I feel fine," Harry said, still confused. "I woke up an hour ago when my alarm went off at 7." He pulled out his phone to check the time, which showed 11:45 a.m. He flipped to the clock app to see all of his alarms were off, including his 7 a.m. He did notice all of Peter's texts were still unread, which weren't there last time he checked his phone. He quickly read through them, then showed Peter his received texts. As if nothing happened, he was back to his usual cheerful self. "Hey, I'm right here, you don't have to worry about me."

"Thanks for reassuring me you're not dead," Peter said, rolling his eyes. He took a drink of his hot coffee, realizing he did need the caffeine as much as he needed Harry. "I can't believe you over slept."

"I swear I didn't," Harry said. "I got up at 7."

Peter shrugged. "Either way, are you ready to present during Energy?"

"Oh shit," Harry slunk in his chair. "That's next isn't it?"

"Yep."

Harry groaned as he took a big gulp of his coffee. He should've bought a couple of shots to go with it -- espresso or whiskey, which ever would help more.

\--------------------------

Their presentation on Wind Energy wasn't as bad as they anticipated. It actually went very well. They were able to cover both sides of the issue, how it was one of the cheaper renewable energy, but it still wasn't cheap. It was renewable, something that coal wasn't, but there has been a lot of bird deaths involved with the wind farms. Plus regulations seem to favor wind energy with less restrictions, even allowing more wind farms to get away with the accidental deaths of protected eagles, while coal faced stricter restrictions. It may have helped that Harry's father complains of most of the guidelines while talking about powering Oscorp.

Government, they had a substitute teacher, who gave out a small quiz before letting the class have a "quiet" study hall. Harry took this as an opportunity to copy Peter's notes from Principles of Engineering, or as much as Peter actually took.

"So," Peter said softly, a little nervous. "Homecoming is in two weeks ... you wanna go?"

Harry looked up from his notes at Peter. "That's my homecoming proposal?"

"Oh I'm -- "

"I'm joking," Harry laughed, gently nudging Peter with his shoulder. "Of course. I wasn't sure if you were into homecoming. I was going to wait it out before I asked." 

"Kind of," Peter shrugged, smiling. "I just really want to see you dressed up."

"I mean, you have," Harry said. "Whenever I go to meetings for dad, I'm usually in a suit and tie. Half the time, I end up at your place afterward."

Peter elbowed Harry. "I mean for me." Peter grinned. "It's different knowing that you're dressed up for our date."

"Is that what we're calling it?" Harry said wide-eyed. He realized that he threw Peter off. He slipped his hand underneath the desk and grabbed Peter's hand to hold it. "I mean out loud. I thought we were still low-key."

Peter squeezed Harry's hand. "When were we low-key?"

"When --" Harry blushed, remembering when he asked Peter if they were low-key, he was the only one who knew about the relationship. "Uh ... during the month that I thought we were dating."

Peter realized what Harry was referring to. "I thought you were talking about the kiss at Flash's. I thought you were embarrassed by it."

"Absolutely not," Harry said, smiling. "I would've made out with you on Flash's floor."

"I mean you kind of did," Liz Allen piped up. She turned around in her seat to face the two, both were blushing. "I thought you guys were dating since the first day of school?"

"It's complicated," they said in unison. Liz rolled her eyes.

"If you want complicated, I'll introduce you to Flash."

\------------------------

After school, Harry rushed to Oscorp. The only thing different this time, is he was able to kiss Peter goodbye publicly. While it felt like an accomplishment to him and Peter, nobody else paid attention to the two.

As soon as he got into the building, one of the receptionists quickly told him that he was to head to his father's office, which he always did to get his task for the day. He knocked on the open door, like usual, as he entered the office. "Claire told me to --"

"How was your weekend?" Norman interrupted, glancing up from the newspaper in his hand.

"I mean it was good," Harry shrugged. "Peter and I hung out --"

"No need to lie," Norman snapped, as he slammed his paper on the desk. He pointed to the cover, which featured the Goblin suit in a high quality photo. "Shut the door and explain." Harry shrunk as he followed his father's instructions.

"I was just testing out speed and stability," Harry said quietly. "I didn't think I would be seen. It was Sunday, I didn't expect a photographer to be that far south. I didn't --"

"I don't need to hear what you didn't do," Norman retorted. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Harry shouted. "I flew --"

"Then what made them think you're the 'hero'?" Norman said, a little calmer.

"I don't know," Harry said softly, as he sat down in front of his father's desk. He glanced at the photo, noticing Peter was the one who took it. "Peter has said that Daily Bugle tends to spin stuff, especially when it comes to Spider-Man." Norman turned the paper back to face him and flipped inside to the Spider-Man picture he passed by earlier. The photos featured Spider-Man on top of a runaway car and the car with it's driver, strung up in a web. The caption read 'Spider-Man aids grand-theft, leaves partner behind.' 

"Huh," Norman said. "Maybe we can use it to our advantage."

"So, I'm not in trouble?"

"Oh no. You're definitely in trouble."

 


	13. 'There's nothing else I'd rather do but sleep.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's sexual intimacy included in this chapter, and that's probably as raunchy as it will get. (Might be more scenes similar to this, unsure at this point.)
> 
> Please let me know if the rating should be changed from 'Teen and Up' to 'Mature.' I'm bad at labeling.

Goblin appearances have become more frequent, and Peter can't tell if Spider-Man is supposed to stop him or not. He never does anything bad that he knows of, other than the fact that he blasted him into a building on their first meeting. And after that, Goblin hasn't interacted with Spider-Man. If he was a good guy like J. Jonah Jameson claims he is, then why doesn't he converse with Spider-Man? But if he was bad ... then why hasn't he done anything? Peter has tried following him before, only to lose him halfway through Manhattan, leaving Peter in his dust.

Every other week that Harry put on the costume, the scientists involved in the project up Harry's dosage of the serum and check his vitals. They just up'd it to five milliliters, still half of what Harry takes on his "off" days. He made a mental note later to make sure he would take the rest before he went to bed, or else he'd wake up at 3 a.m., throwing up as his body tried to push the serum out. He almost couldn't function without the serum in his body. It made him stronger, tougher, faster. He needed to make sure his body could handle it and get it approved for his father, who needed it to survive.

He glanced at his father, who was checking one of the lead scientist's work, checking the notes on the project. His father held his statue strong, as if he wasn't dying. According to the project file Harry read, soon his blood would start thinning, his heart would beat irregularly and his lungs would struggle to breathe. But still, he finds enough air to yell at Harry. He needed Spider-Man, who looks like he can heal his wounds -- something that isn't achievable with the Globulin serum.

But that was the least of Norman's worries right now.

"The Baxter Building has a lot of security, Harry," Norman repeated, for the fifth time this week. Harry nodded.

"The best strategy is to take out power generators first," Harry repeated. Norman was about to speak, but Harry pressed on. "The block's first, then the Baxter Building. Complete black out. While Richards fixes the problem, I'll plant the chip in the servers."

"Then you grab --"

"I know," Harry said. He's been staring at the blueprints of the building all week. He basically knew the place without stepping past the lobby. "I can handle it."

"I know you can," Norman said. He turned to one of the assistants, "Locations."

"Richards is in the building," the assistant said, as he glanced through the security cameras. "Grimm should be out, I don't see him in the building. Storm took the bait and is in Staten Island occupied --" Harry mentally noted to thank that intern for taking that date. "Cannot locate Sue Storm."

"Watch out for her," Norman said to Harry. While her powers lean toward defensive, they've seen the tapes and how strong she proves to be. Harry nodded.

\-------

Like Harry told Norman, the Goblin took out the block's powers. Better yet, a mile of the city went into a blackout. He took his opportunity quick to take out the generators in the Baxter Building. Remembering the structure, he flew up on his glider, tossing a glowing ball against the wall where he knew the generators were.  The ball stuck to the wall and clicked a few times before it shocked through the walls, temporarily stunning the generators to shut down the security. Harry flew up to the next floor, blasting the window to break into the lab. He went to the servers and shoved his usb drive into one of the towers.

"He got it," He heard Norman whisper over the communications device. He knew the engineers where clicking away to uncover Reed Richards' experiments, before Harry was caught. Norman spoke clearly, "Now grab --"

"I got it," Harry replied, as he already pulled the small box out of the drawer. Before he could open the box, his hand was encased in a force field.

"You can put that back," Sue Storm ordered, slipping out of invisibility. Harry wondered how long she had been there.

"It's hard when I'm not able to let go of it," The Goblin teased.

"And that's fine for now," Sue said, as she walked toward the server. "I have something I need to check out before I handle you." She searched the tower that he was at, locating the brightly colored usb drive that stuck out like a sore thumb. She grabbed it, but as soon as she started to pull it out, electricity from the computer transferred through the thumb drive into her fingers, stunning her. 

Her force field around the Goblin's hand dropped and he quickly blasted out of the building. By the time Sue was able to let go of the usb drive and focus on following the Goblin, he was no where to be seen.

Harry sighed, as soon as he could see the Oscorp building in sight again. He almost forgot how to breathe. "Good job, Harry," he heard over the communication device. Harry smiled.

\-----------

After an eventful Saturday afternoon, Harry had a more exciting evening planned. He just had to wait for Peter to finish getting ready.

"You're like a prom queen," Harry called up the stairs, checking his watch. They really didn't have to hurry. The dance lasted until midnight and their dinner reservations can wait.

"You think I'm going to be prom queen," Peter gasped as he peeked from around the corner.

"Not if you don't hurry up," Harry smirked. "It might be June before you're done highlighting."

Peter rolled his eyes as he walked down the stairs. "Clearly, I don't need a highlight. Have you seen these cheekbones? They pop by themselves."

"Oh, I know," Harry smiled, kissing Peter whenever he got to the bottom of the stairs. 

Peter smiled, as he looked at Harry's suit, and like he told Harry, he loved the fact that he dressed up for him. Harry's olive tie may have been Peter's favorite part of the outfit, but he noticed it was cockeyed. Naturally, Peter took it on himself to straighten Harry's tie.

"You boys better behave yourselves tonight," Aunt May said, coming from the kitchen. She smiled, "Aren't you two handsome. Now, I know some students might sneak in alcohol and if you drink, take a taxi. I will pay you back."

"Aunt May --"

"I'm serious, I want you boys home safe. When will you be home?"

"Uh," Peter said, glancing at Harry. "I was hoping I could stay the night at Harry's."

May looked at the two boys for a moment before crossing her arms. "Do we need to have a conversation about safe sex?"

"No, Aunt May," The boys responded in unison.

"Condoms," she said, anyway. "Consent. Drunk sex does not equal consent --"

"We're not at that point in our relationship," Harry interrupted, trying to save the two from embarrassment. "I told Peter I wanted to take things slow."

"Alright," May said, studying the two boys, trying to catch them in a fib. "You two still need to be safe."

"We will," they said unison.

\-----------

Harry took Peter out for dinner, a nice restaurant -- but not too expensive. Peter stressed how much he didn't want to eat somewhere expensive. He almost felt too spoiled by Harry. And as much as Harry insisted to take Peter out to the best of New York, he agreed to save the expensive places for somewhere special. ("Homecoming _is_ special, Pete." "There's another in the winter, don't worry.") Oceana was one of Harry's favorite seafood places and while it was more expensive than what Peter wanted, it was a good fit for the way they were dressed. Any cheaper, than they might end up in a diner looking ridiculous in suits.

The dance was nice and simple. It was easy to see that the theme was based off of "La La Land" as blue and gold balloons were spread throughout the gym, fake street lights were placed everywhere and jazz music filled the building.

"It feels as if we should've bought cheap gin," Harry whispered as he took Peter's hand and lead him into the gym.

"I mean, I bet Flash has _something_."

Harry gasp. "You told Aunt May that you weren't going to drink."

"No," Peter said, stopping as he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "I suggested that if we were going to drink, we're going to do it responsibly." Harry rolled his eyes, laughing.

\----------

Harry lead Peter quietly through his home. His dad knew he was out to homecoming, but Harry never told him who with or if he was bringing anybody home. He'd hate to ask to let Peter spend the night, only for his dad to discover then that they were dating and refuse for them to have any contact.

But as soon as his bedroom door shut, Harry wrapped his arms around Peter.

"So Mr. Parker," Harry whispered. "What are we doing tonight?"

"I figured sleep," Peter joked, as he loosened Harry's tie. "Did you have something else in mind?"

"Sleep's good," Harry nodded, glancing down at Peter's hands as he took off his tie. "There's nothing else I'd rather do but sleep."

"Bullshit," Peter laughed as he tossed Harry's tie on his desk. He softy kissed Harry before pushing him gently away. Peter took off his jacket and tossed it in the corner of the room. Harry did the same before pulling Peter back to him.

"Let me help you," He said, pressing his lips back to Peter's. He loosened Peter's tie, tossing it aside, then slowly unbuttoned Peter's shirt. As soon as every button was undone, Harry slipped his hand inside Peter's shirt and on his chest, mapping his skin with his fingertips. He moved his kisses from Peter's mouth to his jawline, kissing it softly. Peter moved his hands to Harry's waist, fidgeting with Harry's belt. Harry pulled away from his skin, softly laughing.

"Having trouble?"

"It's easier when it's my own," Peter said, still trying to take off Harry's pants. 

"Here," Harry said, moving Peter's hands away and undid his belt himself. He also unbuttoned his pants and did the zipper, so Peter wouldn't have to worry about that either. He also might have undid his pants because he wasn't sure how he would react with Peter's hands so close to his dick. Harry was trying to wait until Peter was comfortable or until their relationship matured, but it was getting harder each time they made out.

 While Harry unbuttoned his pants, Peter worked at his shirt, its buttons much easier than Harry's pants. He forced Harry's shirt off and smiled at the half-dressed Osborn. "You need to take your pants off, too," Peter laughed. "Let me help." He pulled Harry in again, pressing kisses against his neck.

"How are your kisses going to take off --" Harry started to ask until he felt Peter's kisses travel from his neck, down his chest, stopping at his belly button. Harry could feel himself blush, realizing what Peter was doing. As Peter was on his knees, pressing a kiss against Harry's stomach, he pulled down Harry's pants. "Pete --" Peter moved his kiss to Harry's hip bone, softly sucking his skin. "Pete --" Harry tried again, as Peter sucked harder. "Pete --" Peter gently bit Harry's skin, causing Harry to moan.

Peter stood back up, kissing Harry's neck again.

"You fucking tease," Harry mumbled, tangling his fingers into Peter's hair, realizing that he was still fully dressed. He pushed Peter slightly, before forcing his shirt and pants off, too. And unlike Peter, Harry knew how to take off someone else's pants.

He smirked as he pushed Peter onto the bed and crawled on top of him. He straddled Peter, as he pressed a soft kiss against Peter's lips, almost too soft for Peter. Peter tried to lean up to deepen their kiss before Harry pulled away. "Oh no, my friend." The pressed another gentle kiss against his jawline. "Soft." He moved his mouth to his neck. "Kisses." He pressed his lips, a little harder against Peter's skin. "For you." He split his lips open slightly, as he softly sucked Peter's skin. Peter closed his eyes. He wasn't going to complain, he loved Harry's soft touches. He relaxed in Harry's bed, leaning into Harry's touch. Harry smirked before he bit down. 

Peter gasped. He wasn't expecting that. He should've expected it. Harry sat up on Peter, admiring the love bite that started to form on his neck.

"You're going to need concealer for that one."

"You jerk," Peter smiled, covering it with his hand. Harry smiled as he ran his hands up Peter's body, pulling his arms above his head.

"Mr. Parker," he admired. He couldn't remember the last summer he saw Peter, but he was sure he wasn't buff. Puberty did well with him. "Do you lift?"

"Nope," Peter smiled. "Must be from the textbooks they hand out each semester."

"Well," Harry said, as he let go of Peter's hands and ran his down his body again. "Don't stop your education, then." He quickly pushed himself back down on Peter, pressing his lips against Peter's hips, wanting to give him a matching hickey.

Peter moaned, at the sudden affection, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair. This was going to be a long, fun night. He'd be surprised if they even got to sleep.

\--------

A sharp pain woke Harry up and instantly, his body went into a shock. He gasped, as he could feel himself overheat. He tried to pull himself out of bed before he could wake Peter, but he couldn't move. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as he could feel the serum breaking away in his body. His muscles tightened as it moved quickly up his spine, he gasped for air, forcing himself off the bed and away from Peter, slamming onto the floor. He coughed and tried to focus. He pushed himself of the floor and quickly into the bathroom.

Peter had woken up as soon as Harry moved away from his body. "Hare?" He whispered, before he heard Harry vomit. "Harry!" He pushed himself out of the bed and into the bathroom, where Harry had collapsed on the floor. Peter quickly sat down and pulled Harry into his arms, who was struggling to keep consciousness. "Harry, what's wrong?" Peter panicked, brushing Harry's hair away from his face. He suddenly noticed how hot Harry was and that he was sweating terribly. "You need help, oh god," Peter whispered, before shouting. "Norman! Norman help!"

Harry tried to grab at Peter, to get him to stop yelling for Norman. Norman couldn't see him like this, he'd learn that he's abused the serum and couldn't handle Project Green. But Harry barely could move his arm, at all. He spent most of his energy escaping the bed, he could hardly do more than focus on breathing, which was hard enough. Another jolt of pain went through his body, he tensed and screamed, not able to hold back.

"Norman!" Peter yelled.

Norman came running down the hall and into the bedroom, to barely see the two nearly nude boys on the bathroom tiles, terrified. "What's going on?" He demanded, as he turned on the bathroom light. The dim light exposed the vomit that made it mostly into the toilet, but also down Harry's chest. His slight concern turned to complete worry. "What's wrong with Harry?"

"I ... I don't know," Peter said, still holding onto Harry. "He just woke up and threw up and --"

"You should leave," Norman said, as he pulled Harry off of Peter and into his own arms. 

"Norman --"

"It's time for you to go," Norman ordered as he cradled Harry in his arms, as if he was a small child again. Peter sheepishly watched at Norman as he carried Harry out of his room and into the hallway. Peter felt helpless as he couldn't find a way to make Harry feel better. He was terrified as the one he loved was in extreme pain and Peter couldn't do anything stop it.


	14. 'Everything's going to be alright, you just gotta stay with me.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: Changes to correct the Osborn home from a mansion in an undisclosed part of NYC to the penthouse of Oscorp because where else would Norman want to live???

Norman had a lot of flings in his life, but he would always go back to his one true love **:**  Science.

That is, until he met Emily Lyman.

Her smile, her laugh, ... the way she was able to command a room filled with actors. Everything about her was beautiful.

They married two years after they met, right after Norman graduated with his bachelor's degree. Emily had graduated the year before and was already starting to act. She did small shows here and there, mainly off-Broadway, but mainly dedicated her time between writing and Norman. Norman, on the other hand, spent his time between Emily and science, his two loves.

That is, until Harry was born three years later.

After graduating from the master's program, Norman went on to create Osborn Corporation, which focused on medical robotics, specifically prosthetic limbs. Emily had been involved in three Broadway shows. All on stage. Her last one, she had only spent a few weeks performing before falling ill suddenly. She couldn't perform without her stomach turning, feeling light-headed or throwing up. Soon enough, Norman made her go to the doctor, to which they found out they were expecting a child.

The day Harry was born, Norman fell in love all over again. 

He fell in love with his newborn son, Harold Theopolis Osborn. He always heard people talk about how their child has the mother's nose, or how the baby's ears look just like his dad's. He thought that was bullshit.

Until he saw how much Harry looked like Emily.

He vowed to protect Harry at all costs.

Norman remembers the first time Harry told Norman he wanted to be like him when he grows up. "I wanna work with you, daddy," the five-year-old grinned.

He also remembers the six-year-old who told him he wanted to be an actor. "I thought you were going to work with me?" 

"That too," He smiled. "I want to be like momma and you."

Norman remembers how hurt Emily was when she found out her father was sick and how there was nothing she could do about it.

Norman remembers how hurt they were when they discovered that the disease was genetic. Emily had already developed it. He spent most of his days in the lab, trying to discover how to fix it while Emily made the most of her time with Harry. Norman remembers holding her in his arms as she grew sicker.

And here Norman was, ten years later, holding his son in his arms as he falters in and out of consciousness in pain.

\-------------

Norman had been in a light sleep, when he first heard his name called. He thought he was dreaming. He rolled over and closed his eyes. Until he heard Harry scream and his name called again.

He jumped out of bed and rushed down the hall, into Harry's room. The empty bed suggested that the cries for help came from the bathroom. "What's going on?" He demanded, turning the light on. The dim light exposed Harry and Peter on the floor. The two boys were both stripped down to their underwear, small red marks across their bodies. He'd almost started to chew them out for being loud until he realized the two were terrified for a different reason than being caught. First, he noticed the vomit down Harry's chest then between the toilet and the floor. "What's wrong with Harry?" He asked, terrified. The look on Harry's face reminded him too much of the pain Emily suffered.

"I ... I don't know," Peter said, still cradling Harry. "He just woke up and threw up and --"

"You should leave," Norman said, as he pulled Harry away from Peter into his own arms. 

"Norman --"

"It's time for you to go," Norman ordered as he cradled Harry in his arms, as if he was a small child again. He glanced at Peter once more before carrying Harry out.

He held Harry close to his chest as he carried him down the hall. His heart broke as he looked at Harry, his light brown hair fell in his face. It hurt Norman how much Harry looked like Emily. He's always looked more like Emily than he did him. Ever since he was a child. But Harry wasn't a little boy anymore. Norman held him tight as they made their way downstairs and into the elevator. Norman needed find a way to fix his mistakes, to help Harry. He already lost Emily, he can't lose Harry, too. He's everything to him. Harry is Norman's reason to continue to grow Oscorp.

He carried Harry into the elevator, ready to close the door when he noticed Peter was standing behind them, with a blanket to hand to Norman. Norman hesitated, then grabbed the blanket from Peter. He gave a soft nod before going back to Harry and wrapping the blanket around him. The door closed and the elevator went down.

"Come on, Bubba," Norman whispered to Harry, holding him tightly."Everything's going to be alright, you just gotta stay with me."

Once they reached Norman's private parking garage, the first floor below Oscorp, Norman slipped Harry into the back seat. He pressed his hand against Harry's cheek, feeling his rising warmth before slipping into the front seat and backed the car into the street and down the road. The next stop: Emergency Room.

Harry started to cough. Norman angled the rear view mirror so he could look at Harry. "Take slow breaths, Harry."

"Os-oscorp," Harry coughed, trying to lean toward his dad. "Need ... Oscorp."

"Harry ... We just left," Norman said, a little confused. "You don't need ... You need a doctor."

Harry fell back into the backseat, coughing. He closed his eyes and focused. _Strength and perseverance._  

"Need ... the ... serum," Harry gasped. He leaned into the seat, looking up at Norman. "The serum."

Norman glanced at the mirror, trying to understand. Harry looked terrified, he should go to the emergency room. But he wants ... the serum?

Harry licked his lips, focusing his energy. "W-w-with ... withdraw," he sputtered. Then it clicked to Norman.

He slammed the breaks at the red light and turned around to face the backseat.

"Harold Theopolis Osborn!" He shouted. "What do you mean withdraw?"

Harry looked at Norman with sass. Or as much sass as a half-conscious person could give. Norman knew what he meant by withdraw. Norman knew that the serum was considered addictive, which is why they were slowly introducing it to him. So they could avoid the addiction. And now, Harry's going through withdrawal.

"G-green," Harry nodded toward the light. Norman turned around and started to drive again, at the next intersection, Norman took a right instead of a left, to head to back Oscorp instead of the ER.

"Harold Theopolis," Norman uttered. "When we get back, you are so in trouble." 

Harry leaned his head against the seat, wishing that his heart would slow down, that he could breathe normally again, that he could stop feeling like he needed to pick his skin off, just so he could ask Norman sarcastically if he was in trouble for the serum addiction or for having Peter over. That's one way to come out officially. Harry grabbed the blanket tight, as suddenly his body turned from burning heat to freezing cold. He remembered learning how to skate at Wollman Rink with his mom. He wasn't good, but she taught him how to keep his balance. He remembers the snow fall and how she taught him to build a snowman. He remembered her laugh, her smile, the way she held him tight and kept him safe.

"I-I mi-miss mom," Harry sputtered softly, his eyes fully closed as he embraced the memories. Norman glanced at Harry through the rear view mirror.

"Me too," He said, as he pulled the car back into the parking garage. "Come on, Bubba. Let's get you feeling better."

Harry's withdrawal made it hard for Norman to get a set answer. He wasn't sure how much Harry would take, but he knew that the project had him set at 5 milliliters, and he hoped that was enough.

Soon, after the serum hit Harry's blood stream, Norman watched Harry melt into relaxation. He didn't realize how tense Harry was until he started to unwind. 

"Dad," Harry whispered, tired from the attack. "I'm s-so sorry."

Norman brushed Harry's hair back, pressing a soft kiss on top of Harry's head. "You're going to be fine Harry. We'll talk about this tomorrow. Let's get you back upstairs."

\----------------

An hour later, they were back in the penthouse. Harry, half awake as Norman lead him upstairs and into his room.

To Norman's surprise, Peter was still there, fully dressed, waiting on Harry's bed.

"Hey-ya, Peter," Harry smirked, letting go of his dad and slowly stumbling to Peter. Peter quickly stood up, and caught Harry before he fell. Harry smiled, pressing his cheek against Peter's shoulder. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Harry sleepily slurred. "Because I do. I love you so much."

Peter blushed. It was the first time that Harry had told him that he loves him, and it was half-awake nonsense in front of his dad. "I love --" 

"Shhh," Harry said, leaning off of Peter, but not taking away Peter's support. He'd fall over. "My dad's over there. He doesn't know I'm gay."

"I know you're gay," Norman confirmed.

"I'm bisexual," Harry corrected, both himself and Norman.

"You need sleep," Peter said, helping Harry to his bed. Harry, still with a blanket wrapped around him, crawled into his bed, pulling his comforter on top of him. He leaned up, pressed a soft, sloppy kiss against Peter and, instantly, fell asleep.

"Peter, let's talk," Norman said softly, gesturing him to the hallway. Peter followed him sheepishly. He was afraid of what Norman was going to tell him. Harry's worries had included them splitting up because of Norman, either by force or distance. Peter was afraid of what was in store for him. Norman gestured for Peter to sit down on the couch in the den, to which he did.

Norman sighed, not sure how to go about this. 

"Condoms." Norman said, nonchalantly. "Consent is always necessary and if either of you are drunk -- which you shouldn't be -- the consent is no longer there."

Peter started to die internally. He already had the similar conversation with Aunt May, but luckily, Harry talked her out of giving them the full conversation. Harry was passed out in the other room, he can't save him now.

"I know Harry can be a little ... rough," Norman awkwardly gestured to the hickeys on Peter's neck. Peter turned red, forgetting all about those. "Make sure that everything that happens, you consent to. Anything else could be ... detrimental to your mental health." Norman wasn't sure if the hickeys were the cause of Harry being ... rough, or if it was something that egged on from his serum. Either way, he needed to discuss being safe, with Harry and Peter ... just without mentioning the serum to Peter. He didn't need to know that part. Norman made a mental note to discuss with Harry how the serum could affect his sex life. "Do you have any questions ... about anything?"

Peter looked at Norman sheepishly, "Is Harry going to be okay?"

Norman's heart broke a little. Here he was, telling Peter about safe sex and forgetting to mention that Harry was fine after the sudden illness. "He's going to be fine." Norman stood up. "Go ... go get some rest. We'll have breakfast in the morning."


	15. 'Call me "Daddy" first'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: Changes to correct the Osborn home from a mansion in an undisclosed part of NYC to the penthouse of Oscorp because where else would Norman want to live???

Harry woke up, happy to see Peter in bed with him.

A little sad to notice that Peter wasn't spooning him, as he remembered them falling asleep. It almost looked as if Peter was trying not to touch him, curled up on the far side of the bed. Actually, it was weird that Peter still had his dress shirt on when Harry clearly remembers taking it off of him and giving him hickeys to wear instead.

Maybe he dreamt up a lot more than he thought.

Harry slipped out of bed quietly and went to the bathroom. There he saw his bare chest, covered in hickeys. He glanced back at Peter, who was indeed wearing his shirt. Harry, a little confused, washed his face, used the bathroom, then went to his dresser to pull out a shirt and go get a drink from the kitchen.

When he turned the corner to the kitchen, he ran into his dad.

"Dad!" Harry exclaimed, quickly covering the hickey on his neck with his hand. He played it off, pretending he was stretching, keeping his hand on the hickey. "Didn't expect you to be here ... in the kitchen ... early morning."

"Early?" Norman raised an eyebrow. "It's almost noon."

"Noon?" Harry said, dropping his arm. "No, I didn't sleep that long --" He glanced at the wall clock to see his dad was right, it was 11:45 and the sun was out and shining a lot more than he thought.

"We need to have a talk," Norman said, lowering his tone. "Before Peter wakes up."

"Peter?" Harry said, nervously, searching for an excuse. "Oh yeah, he slept the night after homecoming. I just figured it was better for him to sleep here instead of driving him all the way back --"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Norman said, not sure why Harry was making excuses. "I'm talking about the serum."

"W-what about it?" Harry said, confused. They never talked about Oscorp projects outside the lab. They actually hardly ever talked outside the lab.

"About taking it? And when to take it," Norman said, almost confused by Harry's confusion. He stopped for a second. "Do you remember what even happened last night?"

Harry remembered. He felt his cheeks warm up. He remembers getting hot with Peter, and he hoped that Norman didn't hear him. "With homecoming?"

"No," Norman said. "I'm talking about throwing up in the bathroom at 3 a.m. and our trip to the lab."

"Did I ... last night?" Harry thought about it. He does vaguely remember pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. But he couldn't remember past that. 

"How much of the serum do you take normally?" Norman decided to let Harry assume what his night was like. Norman wasn't going to repeat it. He was going to make sure of it.

"Ten milliliters," Harry said softly. "We were working up slowly and it ... didn't feel right. It didn't feel ... enough." Harry hesitated before continuing. "I've ... uh ... been having some pains recently -- just muscle soreness -- but the serum made it go away, but it didn't feel enough."

"Harry," Norman said softly. "You should've told me."

"It's not a big deal," Harry said. "I'll just watch the serum in-take."

"We'll watch it," Norman corrected, then quickly changed his tone. "Peter should go."

"Dad --"

"We need to talk about the project," Norman said, putting the dishes in the sink. He planned on cooking for the boys, but if Harry's starting to have muscle soreness, Norman needs to fix the project plan.

"It's kind of a shitty thing to do to wake someone up and tell them to leave," Harry snapped. He turned to leave the kitchen and walk away. Norman grabbed his wrist, pulling him back the three steps he took.

"Then take him out for lunch," Norman snapped quietly. "But we're going to talk about the project. The lab. Two o'clock, got it?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Got it." Norman let go of Harry's wrist then went to his phone to send a few quick messages. Harry watched as Norman left the kitchen and to the elevator to head downstairs. Harry hated that he was treated like a child. The thing he hated the most was that he knew he was going to go to Oscorp at 2. As much as he didn't want to waste another Sunday afternoon in the Oscorp lab, it looked like he was going to.

Harry made it back to his bedroom and, instantly, he smiled. There was Peter, still asleep, curled up to one side of the bed. Harry climbed back into bed, curling as close to Peter as he could. He wrapped his arm around Peter's waist, gently pulling him in closer.

"Peter," Harry whispered, burying his face into the back of Peter's shirt. Being the big spoon isn't one of Harry's favorite things, it always reminded him how tall everyone was compared to him. He wasn't short, but he definitely wasn't as tall as Peter. "Peteeeer," Harry whispered, again, this time a little louder.

Peter groaned, turning in place to face Harry. "Five more minutes, mom," Peter mumbled, tucking Harry underneath his chin. Harry would roll his eyes, but why waste any effort if Peter wasn't going to see. Harry enjoyed Peter's cuddles anyway.

"I know I said I thought that was hot, but I was kind of joking," Harry deadpanned. Harry relaxed for a few minutes, he wished he could wake up in Peter's arms everyday, but he knew that wasn't going to happen for a while.

"I had fun last night," Peter mumbled Harry's hair. He thought about it for a second before pulling away. "I mean, before you got sick. That was terrible. Before that, that was great. Not that you ruined anything, oh god -- How are you feeling?" If anything fully woke Peter up, it was his word vomit.

"I feel good," Harry said. And he did. He honestly doesn't remember anything from last night.

"What happened? What did the doctor say?"

"What?"

"What did the doctor say? When you were at the ER?" Peter said.

Harry doesn't remember going to the ER. He doesn't remember a doctor or what the doctor would've told him.  He tried to think what could've caused him to throw up at 3 in the morning. "Shellfish," Harry blurted out. "I am -- uh -- apparently allergy to shellfish. Lobster really." He pulled away from Peter to crawl out of bed, maybe if he changed the subject, Peter will drop it. He went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans. "Come on, let's go grab lunch."

"Really?" Peter said, rolling over in bed to watch Harry put on pants. "You love lobster, though. When's the last time you ate lobster before yesterday?"

"Uh," Harry actually had to stop and think. "Two months before?" He does love lobster. He actually kind of regrets telling Peter that he was allergic, because that now means he won't be able to eat lobster with Peter anymore. "He said sometimes stuff like that develops." He walked back to his bed and grabbed Peter's hands, tugging slightly. "Come on, let's go get lunch."

Peter looked at Harry in silence before speaking up. "Call me daddy, first."

"Fuck off."

\-----------------

The couple had a nice lunch at a local diner. At first, Harry was about to order crab cakes, until Peter reminded him that he had a bad allergic reaction to lobster. Harry sighed, and ordered hamburger and fries.

Two o'clock came around, Harry had dropped off Peter -- not before a quick kiss goodbye -- and off Harry went to Oscorp.

Harry used his key card to get in and rushed up to the lab. There, he was surprised to see several of the lead scientists along with his dad, already hard at work. He noticed that they were all hovered over some blue prints and the box that was stolen from the Baxter Building.

"Harry," Norman said, now noticing his son's arrival. He walked away from the group and ushered Harry back into the hallway. "Let's go talk for a minute."

Harry almost detested before following his dad. He wanted to know what they were doing, but he also knew his dad trusted him enough with Project Green to keep him informed. He has so far. Other than the fact that Harry had to dig before Norman would tell him, but he told him eventually.

Once they were in Norman's office, Norman shut the door.

"Harry," Norman sighed. Harry internally groaned. He knew he was going to be removed from the project. "We need to talk about the serum."

"I know," Harry started. "I fuck up. I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise you. Please don't --"

"Harry," Norman snapped, before sighing to calm down. He shouldn't be snapping at him now. "Harry, I wish you told me about the muscle pains, sooner."

"Why?" Harry said. "It didn't seem like a big deal. I was having it before we started the trials."

"Harry," Norman groaned. "How long has this been going on?"

Harry started to feel a little confused. He knows muscle soreness isn't that big of a deal, so why is his dad so concerned? "Uh, last year."

Norman sighed, walking away from Harry and to his desk. He knocked a few papers over in anger before sitting down in his chair. He gestured for Harry to come sit down by him. Harry walked over and sat down. "I don't know ... how to say this. Mainly because I was hoping I wasn't going to have to." He looked up, noticing the young man in front of him. Oh god, when did his little boy grow up? Where did the time go? "We found out your mother was sick, just after Poppa died. We didn't know she was sick, until she started to have some of the same symptoms as your Poppa. The doctors couldn't do anything, they didn't have anything they could give her. I ... " Norman stopped for a second, trying to figure out how to tell Harry. 

Harry wasn't sure why Norman was telling him about his mom. He knew the story, he remembers being there. It just hurts to hear it again ... but it was almost bittersweet as he loved to hear about his mom. Just ... not this story.

"I had developed experimental drugs. Trying to help her. Knew what helped her dad and what could help her," Norman started up again. He tried to keep his voice from wavering and figuring out how much he should tell Harry. "After a while, we realized it wasn't going to help her anymore, but if we kept it up we could have something to help fight it when ... " Norman sighed, finally giving up from the bad memories. "Harry, your mom had muscle pains before the doctors diagnosed it. They said it was genetic." Norman bit his lip, trying to keep his exposure together. "I'm just trying to protect you."

"Dad ... I don't --"

"Harry I lied to you," Norman said. "This entire time, I've lied. I told you I was sick, I wrote down in the files that it was me, but it's not Harry." Norman blinked tears away from his eyes. "It's you."


	16. 'You're not going to die because I'm not going to let you.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: Changes to correct the Osborn home from a mansion in an undisclosed part of NYC to the penthouse of Oscorp because where else would Norman want to live???
> 
> Most changes were in chapter 14 to clarify that "going to Oscorp" was turning around, minor changes in chapter 15 to clarify that their home is a penthouse. Other changes were like changing the word "house" to "penthouse" or "home."
> 
> Edit: Correction for an Italian phrase, thanks to blejan!

The illness was in the Lyman genes. 

There was no name, but they could track its progress.

There was no cure, just prevention.

Harry's Poppa developed it late in life, when he was 50. Harry didn't notice any difference as the disease developed. He had figured his Poppa couldn't pick him up as often because he was a growing boy. He also knew Nonna took Poppa to the doctors a lot. He just figured that's something that Poppas do.

Harry noticed it more in his mom. He remembered her in pain while she laid on the couch.  Sometimes, their lazy Sundays would be spent in her bed cuddling. But sometimes, he remembered his father telling him that Momma needed rest and he needed to go play in his room. Those tend to be the days that he ended up at the Parker residence -- which was perfectly fine with him.

Harry flipped through the Project Green file in silence at his father's desk. Norman had left Harry alone for a few to help him understand what's going on with his body, but not without reassuring Harry that everything was going to be fine. "We're going to stop this," Norman said, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze before leaving to go back to the laboratory.

Harry remembered reading the file two months ago, so he had only remembered vague details about the disease, but here it was in full detail. He honestly couldn't get how he didn't see this was about him earlier. "The patient is likely to feel sporadic muscle spasms, ranging levels of pain, similar to soreness after workouts to the extreme pain of strained muscles. The pain stems from the degeneration of the muscle tissue. Other symptoms include insomnia, fatigue, chest pains and struggling to breathe. Muscle deterioration to the diaphragm or the heart can lead to death."

Harry found it hard to breathe after reading the symptoms. He remembers how hard it was to sleep the months before he start the treatment, how he often ended up staying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. While home, he had bought a planetarium projection so he could watch the stars at night, finding constellations and hoped for a programmed shooting star so he could make a wish to fall asleep. He remembers how he had to make a pot of coffee every morning, followed by frequent espresso drinks in the afternoon to keep him going. But after dating Peter, things seemed to get easier.

Or, he knows now, after the serum.

"Globulin Green, or Globulin serum, has a high content of anabolic steroids and testosterone to help rebuild and maintain muscle mass. It does not stop the deterioration." Which could explain the stiffness of his muscles when he doesn't take enough of the serum.

"Side effects may include dizziness, aggression, mood swings, selective sustained attention shortened, raised adrenaline, failing thermoregulation, high sex drive, blackouts, nausea, sudden involuntary recurrent memories, hallucinations. If the test subject has the muscle disorder, muscle pain could intensify, leaving the patient temporarily paralyzed, unable to move until serum is re-injected. Serum has a high addiction liability. Must be monitored."

Harry felt terrible. He had focused too much on trying to make his father proud that he put his own health at risk. Harry laid his head on the table and groaned. He put his health at risk for his dad ... who was trying to save his son's life. Harry could not be stupider.

A knock on the door causes Harry to lift his head. His dad stood in the doorway, waiting for Harry's permission to talk. If Harry wasn't ready to talk about his illness or the serum, Norman would come back later, but Harry nodded for Norman to come in.

"Harry --"

"When were you going to tell me?"

Norman hesitated. He should've expected Harry to have asked that. 

"We're you even planning to tell me that I was dying?"

"You're not dying," Norman said. 

"It says so right here," Harry raised his voice, pointing to the paragraph that explained the illness. "How can you look at me and tell me I'm not dying." Harry tried to convoy his anger to his father, but his voice kept breaking, exposing his fear.

"Harry," Norman started softly. "You're not going to die because I'm not going to let you." He walked over to Harry and slowly pulled him into a hug, making sure that Harry would want the comfort. Harry quickly fell into the embrace, needing it more than he needed to be mad. "We're going to stop it. We're going to keep you healthy. Keep you here."

Harry buried his face into his dad's shoulder. He feels healthy -- or he did until he read about his illness. Now he feels like death is waiting for him around the corner. "How long did mom have it?"

"A lot longer than you think," Norman said softly. "Because there's not a lot about the illness, we couldn't catch it early. Like we can with you." Norman pulled away from the hug, and smiled. "Harry, you're going to be fine. We do ... need to talk about the serum and you." He gestured for Harry to sit back down. Norman sat down on the other side of the desk, mentally preparing himself. "So, you're grounded for the next 72 hours --"

"What?" Harry said, surprised. He just found out he's sick and now he's grounded? "Dad, I --"

"We're going to keep track of the serum level in your blood stream," His dad continued. "We need to work you back down to a manageable level, but to do that, we need to see what your blood content says before you go into a withdrawal. It's the only way to know how much we should be giving you." Harry bit his lip and nodded.

Harry realized that he wasn't traditionally grounded -- he's under house arrest and medical watch. Or, he guessed, "lab rest" since he was stuck eighteen floors below his bedroom.

"Can I text Peter that I'm going to be sick?" Harry said. "I mean, we're partners in a few classes. I can't just abandoned him without giving him a heads up."

"As long as you don't tell him about the serum," Norman said. "Harry, nobody beyond the lab walls can ever know about the serum."

Harry nodded.

"Good," Norman said, hesitating for a moment. "Speaking of Peter, we need to talk." Harry froze. We're they too obvious? He knew they weren't quiet after homecoming, but he didn't think they were _that_ loud. "The serum ... like you should've saw in the file ... raises your adrenaline, aggression and your --" Norman hesitated. This could not be more awkward. "Sex drive. You absolutely need to be careful with Peter when --"

"Oh God," Harry exclaimed, shrinking in his chair. Norman was giving Harry _the talk_. 

"Harry, I'm serious," Norman said. "You have to be careful, so you don't force yourself on --"

"Dad! Stop! I promise that's not going to happen," Harry said, burying his face into his hands. Maybe his dad was right, he wasn't going to die from the disease, he's going to die from embarrassment. He didn't know what's worse **:**  Having the sex talk with his dad, his dad thinking that he would force himself onto Peter, or finding out that his dad knew about him and Peter by having the 'don't rape your boyfriend' talk. He took his face out of his hands to glance at his dad. "How did you find out about us?"

"What?" Norman said, a little taken back. "Harry --" It hit him that Harry didn't remember throwing up at 3 a.m. and their field trip to Oscorp, he probably didn't remember how obvious the two were. Norman had figured out by the hickeys on their necks when he went in to check them, only to have his assumption confirmed later by a sleepy Harry, who had showed Peter his affections in front of Norman with no fear. "It was a good guess. I kicked Peter out of the house when I thought I was taking you to the hospital and he was still around when we came back."

Before Harry could get upset about Norman kicking Peter out of the penthouse, he continued to talk. "Peter's a good kid, Harry. You're a good kid. ... Condoms are a must."

"Dad!" Harry groaned as he continued to die inside. 

\-----

_H: Hey, I won't be in school for the next couple of days._

_P: Why's that??_

Harry hesitated, fingers hovering over his touch screen. He knew the backstory he had made. His dad didn't believe that it was shellfish allergy. His dad was worried it was the same thing his mom had and he was going to be tested for it. That way, when he returns to school on Thursday, he could tell Peter he was sick. But here he was ... hesitating. He was probably giving Peter anxiety now, with that 'text-in-process' bubble. He couldn't imagine him when he told him about the muscle disorder, and that he was dying -- no, that he could die. He didn't know which was worse for Peter.

_H: I'm going on a business trip for dad._

_H: In Europe._

Harry groaned.

"Mr. Osborn, I'm going to need you to stay still," The scientist said, as he extended Harry's right arm, searching for a vein to draw blood. Harry continued to text with his left hand.

_P: During the week?_

_H: Yeah._

_H: Bullshit right?_

_P: I'm kind of jealous._

"Ow," Harry flinched as the scientist finally found a vein and already inserted the needle without warning. He watched as his blood was pulled in the syringe. After the syringe was full, he pulled the needle out, replacing it with a swab of cotton, gesturing for Harry to take it. Harry rolled his eyes, switch his phone to the opposite hand and held the cotton ball to his skin. The scientist walked away, off to test the blood sample. 

_H: Don't be._

Harry knew this was only the beginning. He had 71.5 hours left of this. He had more blood tests scheduled at eight, eleven and another after three in the morning, when he's expected to go through a withdrawal. If he doesn't, he will be woken up at four a.m. to check the serum level in his blood. Then some in the morning before letting him relax until three p.m. comes again. And much to his dispute, he's stuck ... in the middle of Manhattan at Oscorp.

_P: Bring me something foreign._

_H: I'll get you something expensive._

_P: NVM_

_H: Too late_

_P: HARRY_

Harry smirked ... until he realized he had three days to get Peter an European gift while he was in New York City.

"Can you go through what a normal weekday for you is like," The scientist said, as he prepared the serum for Harry's three o'clock appointment.

"On an 'A' or 'B' day?" Harry asked, until he realized that's not what the scientist was asking. "Uh ... Wake up about 7 and go to school at 8. Cup of coffee, two shots of espresso. Lunch at noon. Come here after school, a little after 3. You guy's inject me --"

"Recently with five milliliters," The scientist interrupted.

"Yeah, five," Harry confirmed. "Do whatever I need to be doing. Go home. Inject myself at 10 p.m. with five more milliliters. Sleep. Wake up, do the same."

"And if you don't?"

"I wake up, 3 a.m., puking." Harry rolled his eyes, as if it needed to be stated.

"Do you feel any symptoms of withdrawal before you go into withdrawal?"

"Nope," Harry said. "I mean, I'm usually asleep whenever I start to go into withdrawal. I'm usually woken up by sharp pains, but by then, I'm ready to vomit."

"Don't feel weird at all before school gets out?" The scientist asked. "No headaches or sudden fatigue? No muscle pain?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak before realizing maybe he had symptoms that he didn't realize. He did grow tired at the end of the day, but he blamed that on the education system. Block days really took the energy out of him. Usually, if he had muscle pain directly after school, it was in his legs. He'd assumed it was because he was rushing from class to class to Oscorp. Now, he's not sure what all symptoms he's been passing off like it was no big deal. "I'm ... no sure, actually."

"We'll figure it out," The scientist said, as he injected Harry with the serum. "Let us know if you feel any different."

"Like a lab rat?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Pain wise," The scientist said in monotone. Harry rolled his eyes. The scientist finished his paperwork for the injection and left Harry alone, in the mock-bedroom in the Oscorp Lab. He moved from the patient bed set up to the bed, which actually resembled the one in his own room. He thought it was dumb that they couldn't have done this upstairs in the penthouse, but Norman said it would be better where the scientists would be more comfortable testing his blood. At least, he could get good food delivered. Harry glanced at his phone, realizing that he had missed a text from Peter.

_P: Call me before you leave the country?_

_H: Always._

Harry paused for a second before realizing that if he was actually leaving for Europe. It's at least a 7 hour flight and if he was flying tonight, he needed to call Peter _now_.

The phone rang twice before Peter picked up.

"You're already heading?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way to the airport," Harry lied. "Something about expanding business stocks into the world market."

"And he's sending you?" Peter asked. "I mean, not that you're a bad thing. You're a great asset for the company, I just figured Norman --"

"Would send himself?" Harry interrupted. "Yeah, I thought so too. I think he wanted to send someone who was young to show that the company isn't just old people." Harry paused. "Plus, I think he wanted to send someone who knew Italian."

"Are you going to Italy then?"

"Just for one of the days," Harry lied. "Going to Milan tonight then I'm flying to Zurich for the Swiss market."

"Do you speak Swiss?"

"German," He corrected.

"You speak German?"

"Oh shit no. Sorry. They speak German in Switzerland. My German is super rusty. But they also speak French and Italian there, too." 

"Neat," Peter said, actually interested to hear that. "Hey ... tell me something in Italian."

Harry laughed. "Like what?"

"I don't know," Peter laughed back. "Confess your love to me, or some shit like that. Tell a joke."

Harry hesitated for a second before speaking, "Sto morendo, amore mio."

"God," Peter jokingly moaned. "That's so romantic."

"Fuck you," Harry laughed, before noticing one of the scientists entering the room again. "Hey, I have to go."

"So soon?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "We're about to board. I'll message you on the flight. They should have wifi."

"Alright," Peter said, a little heartbroken. "Well, have a good flight."

"Will do." Harry hesitated again before speaking. "I love you, Peter."

Harry could almost hear Peter smile on the other side of the phone. "I love you, too, Harry."


	17. 'I'm trying to protect you'

Harry's body jolted in pain. He bit his lip, trying to fight it back. _Mind over matter_ , he told himself but it was easier said than done. He tried to fight back, but the serum burned through his veins, tightening his muscles. He knew the scientists were on call, but he wasn't sure if they were watching. He had to roll out of bed and find the alert. You'd think after three nights of this, they would have an alarm of their own to come and help him.

He focused his energy on his core as he rolled over, overshooting the edge of the bed and landing straight on the ceramic floor. He groaned as his back hit the cold floor.

He remembers the metal tables of Oscorp's lab on his bare back. The cool metal sent chills down his back. He remembers his dad telling him that he had to hold still, or else the doctor might poke the air out of him. He remembers his Mom's voice, telling Norman that wasn't a very good comment. "But you need to hold still Harry," she said. Harry remembers the sad look from his mom as the doctor took his blood from his arm. 

Harry could almost feel the prick of the needle on his arm.

He reached to touch it before the doctor pushed it away.

"You need to hold still Harry," The doctor repeated, as he finished drawing the blood. He soon replaced the prick with a bright blue bandage. He touched it, gently caressing the bandage, as he glanced up to his mother, who had a similar bandage on her arm.

"We're almost done, Harry," His dad said, as he gently pulled his hand away from the bandage. Harry held his dad's hand as the doctor prepared his shot.

"What's he doing?" The young boy asked meekly. 

"He's going to make you better," His dad said, giving Harry's hand a soft squeeze. The doctor prepared Harry's skin with an alcohol swab.

"It's to keep illnesses away," Harry's mom started to explain. "A shot gives your blood cells a chance to help identify the illness -- " The doctor slowly pressed the needle into Harry's skin. Harry felt his eyes tear up. He squeezed onto his father's hand as he listened to his mother. " -- It's like studying for a test --" The doctor started to inject the shot into his arm. " -- the shot helps your cells fight the illness later --" His mom's voice grew distance. Harry blinked the tears out of his eyes, watching as his mom disappeared.

"Momma?" He softly called out, his voice raspy. He felt a hand against his forehead, before he felt it against the side of his head.

"Harry," Norman said softly, hurting after hearing his son call for his mother. He looked up, nodding toward the scientist, who took Harry's blood sample to be tested for the serum level. Norman pulled Harry halfway off the floor and into his arms, cradling the teenager. Where was the little boy who sat in his office and colored? 

"Where'd Momma go?" Harry asked quietly, leaning into his dad. Norman brushed the boy's hair out of his face.

"Harry, you know where Momma went."

Harry was quiet. As the serum traveled through his body, all of the noises in the room calmed. Everything started to make sense again. "S-She ... She was right here ... " He said quietly, almost ashamed of believing his hallucination.

"I know," Norman whispered, rubbing Harry's arm for comfort. "She was just here."

Harry rested in his dad's arms, trying to figure out what was a dream, what was a hallucination ... and what was a flashback. He was getting better at handling his withdrawals after the injection, but some of the symptoms of the disease hit him harder than others. Getting a shot in Oscorp as a child was way too real to feel more than just a hallucination. It almost felt uncomfortable not knowing why he had a shot in the lab. "I think ... I'm think I'm good," Harry said, slowly pulling himself off of his dad and sitting on the floor. He nodded softly as he tried to focus on his dad, making his father's visual double disappear. "I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Norman asked cautiously. The last two nights, Harry needed to vomit and relax for at least ten minutes before he felt normal again. 

"Yeah," Harry said, almost coldly. He angled himself off the floor using the bed and made his way back into the bed. "I'm just ready to go home."

\-----

Harry woke up earlier than normal. He sighed in relief as he finished his last day of testing. He was actually excited to go back to school. Maybe more excited to see Peter again. His dad took away his phone halfway through the experiment, telling him that if he was in Europe actually on a business trip, he wouldn't be able to make as many calls or text Peter in the same time zone. Harry luckily had already ordered stuff off of Amazon Prime for Peter, and they should be arriving today so he could bring them to Peter.

He slipped out of bed, quickly got dressed and walked over to one of the tables, which had fruits and snacks for Harry. He was suggested to stay on the fiftieth floor, but he could shadow a few scientists if he wanted to. Norman brought in meals for them and they ate together. It was actually was the most Harry remembers eating with his dad in a long time.

He took a banana and started to pack his book bag for school. He glanced at the computer, where the team has been taking notes of the serum. Harry walked over, glancing at the notes. From the blood tests, it confirmed what Harry already knew, if he didn't take enough of the serum during the day, the serum in his blood would start to wear off by midnight. What he didn't realize is that if he didn't take it at 3:30 p.m. when he was at Oscorp, he'd go through the exact same withdrawal by supper time. He didn't realize how much he actually depended on the serum.

He scrolled up, looking at his serum history. The scientists have logged every serum intake that he took. And he could even remember when it started to feel inadequate and when he started to take more. He started taking five milliliters two weeks after they started. A week later, he bumped his total intake up to seven. And at least three weeks ago is when he started to take ten milliliters as a total, whether he took five milliliters twice a day or ten one time. It didn't hit him that he was messing up the calculations when he took more without writing it down. He scrolled all the way up to see his first serum injection, which he expected to see in the first of August, but he was surprised to see it in April ... of 2003.

He thought about his weird dream last night, or maybe it was a hallucination of his withdrawal. His mother's memories felt too real to be a dream ... 

He hesitated before opening the file.

_A weaker version of the disease was administrated on April 23rd, 2003. The vaccination was derived from Patient A, who had fully developed the muscle disorder. Patient B had developed symptoms and the infected chromosome was discovered in Patient C. Vaccination was administrated through a shot in the arm. Patient C, child, was administrated a small amount of the vaccination. Patient B, adult, requested a full dose, although it is marked as a high risk experimental drug._

Harry felt like he couldn't breathe. 

He'd think he'd remember being treated like a lab rat as a preschooler, but other than his memory last night, he wouldn't have known.

"Harry," Norman called from the doorway with a white paper bag, which Harry could assume was breakfast.

"I don't want to talk," Harry said, as he grabbed his bookbag and slung it on. "I'm not hungry anyway." He tried to walk past Norman, who grabbed his shoulder.

"Two more days," Norman said.

"What?"

"We need two more days of testing," Norman said. "We need to test with one administration of ten millimeters --"

"No." Harry stated, trying to push past Norman, who strong grip held him stuck. "I'm not going to be your lab rat anymore."

"You're not my lab rat," Norman stated, pushing Harry inside the room and shutting the door. "Why would you say that? I'm doing this for you?"

"Okay but what about the first administration," Harry snapped. 

"You consented to the first administrat-- "

"I was four!" Harry yelled. "And you injected me with Poppa's illness."

"It's a vaccine, Harry," Norman said, taken back. "It's supposed to --"

"Yeah, I remember mom telling me about it," Harry said, fighting tears. "I also remember mom dying, do you?"

"Harry --"

"Don't do that," Harry said, pushing Norman off of him. He backed up several steps. "You know this was going to be a problem in the future and you didn't care to let me know until now?"

"I'm trying to protect you --"

"How? By injecting me with --"

"You know how vaccines work," Norman interrupted.

"Okay but mom --"

"Was farther along than you are," Norman snapped. "She opted for more than the scientist suggested, Harry. She was already having symptoms --"

"And you didn't stop her?" Harry tried to snap, but his voice was breaking.

"I tried," Norman said softly. "I tried ... Harry, I can't lose you, too. I need you to stay, two more days." He looked at Harry, pleading. "Please."

Harry bit his lip, and nodded.

"Okay," Norman said softly. "I brought breakfast burritos, if you're wanting breakfast."

"I ... I want to call Peter first," Harry said. "I told him I was going to be in school today."

Norman nodded and handed Harry's phone back to him. He actually had came to bring him his phone so he could call Peter anyway. He set the breakfast burritos on the table. "They're both yours if you want them later."

"Hey," Harry called after Norman. Norman stopped, hoping that Harry was going to give him sympathy or some sort of an apology. Harry took a breath and stood up tall. "I'm going out with Peter Friday night. Whether we're done with testing or not." Norman bit his tongue and nodded gently. He should've told Harry that the testing was going to be longer than three days.

 As soon as Norman left, Harry checked his messages.

Monday 08:12

_P: Hey, how's Europe?_

Monday 08:32

_P: NYC is boring. Nothing going on_

Monday 09:58

_P: No coffee to keep me going :(((_

Monday 09:59

_P: Not that i'm missing coffee!!! I'm missing you_

_P: I can make my own coffee, I swear._

Monday 14:15

_P: Government's going to be the death of me._

Monday 17:42

_P: Are you in Italy still? Or have you flown to Switzerland?_

Monday 18:20

_P: It just hit me that it's probably night where you're at i'm sorry good night_

Tuesday 08:12

_P: I look like a clingy girlfriend yesterday sorry!!_

Tuesday 13:10

_P: We have another group project in Energy. I said you were going to be my partner. Don't dump me yet, alright?_

Tuesday 22:27

_P: Miss you_

Harry felt his heart sank. He wished he could've replied to every single text Peter sent, but if he did that, he wouldn't get to talk to him before he went to school. He pressed Peter's contact information and called him real quick.

"Hello?" Peter said groggily. Harry forgot it was before 7 a.m.

"Hey Pete," He chirped. Even hearing a sleepy Peter made his heart flutter.

"Harry!" He heard Peter waking up. "Oh my God, hey ignore all my texts."

"It's too late," Harry laughed. "I knew I was dating a clingy girl."

"It's in my nature," Peter said shyly. "So I can definitely skip my calculus class if we want to study together during your study period. I took some pretty good notes so far."

"Actually, Pete, that's what I wanted to talk about."

"Oh god you're breaking up with me?"

"No!" Harry shouted, a little too loud. He toned his voice down. "Not at all. I'm ... actually staying in Italy a few more days. I'm going to see my Nonna for a few days."

"OH," Peter said surprised. He was actually really excited to see Harry today. But he guessed he could wait. "Okay."

"But we should go out Friday night," Harry said. "I promise, I'll make it up to you."

"Yeah, definitely," Peter said, chirping up. "Are you sure you won't be tired?"

"Not at all," Harry said. "I'll make sure to sleep on the plane."

"Sweet," Peter said, smiling. "I have a Latin test Friday morning, so that will make my day so much better."

"Need to be quizzed?"

"Nope, I should be good. Thanks though," Peter said. "Hey, tell me what you told me the other day ... in Italian?"

"Uh," Harry hesitated. He remembered what he told Peter, but it felt weird saying it again.

"It sounded romantic," Peter tried to help Harry think of it. It wasn't that important. Peter just liked it when Harry spoke Italian. He should quick bugging him about it anyway. "I mean, if you can't remember it. That's alright, I mean, I should stop asking --"

"No you're fine," Harry said. "Was it ... " He paused a moment before speaking. "Sto morendo, amore mio."

Peter smiled. "Honestly, I could listen to you talk in Italian all the time."

"Torna a dormire, fidanzato," Harry whispered. 

"That's new."

"Go back to sleep, Peter," Harry laughed.

"I don't know if I can," Peter said. "I actually need to stop by the Bugle before I go. I got some photos of the Goblin that Jameson wanted to use for the cover, and it might be easier to drop them off today than tomorrow."

"What?" Harry tried to remember the last time he was the Goblin, which was Saturday morning. If Peter had photos, he would've turned them in Saturday ... right?

"Yeah -- well, I took them yesterday," Peter explained. "But it was after photo deadline and they almost used them, but they received a mystery envelope that they think is from the Goblin. They were going to check it today and potentially run it as the front page." He paused for a second. "After they check for anthrax."

"Y-yeah," Harry said. "That would probably be a good idea." He didn't remember going out as the Goblin yesterday ... was that him? Maybe he'd look at his file again. "I'll let you go then. I need to head to Nonna's anyway."

"Oh okay."

"I might not have my phone on me, she kind of lives out in the country."

"I'll try not to be clingy," Peter said. He couldn't promise it, but he'll try.

"No, do it," Harry said. "I love it." He could hear Peter smile. "Hey, I love you."

"I love you, too."


	18. 'I'm in charge.'

 The first time Peter met Harry was at his dad's work.

His mom was sick and they couldn't find anyone to watch him. Peter remembers his dad calling his boss, explaining the situation but something that his boss said encouraged Richard Parker to take Peter to work with him. Peter was excited.

His dad helped him pack his bookbag, like he did when he stayed the afternoon with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Loose crayons, a coloring book and a few racecars. He couldn't believe he was going to work with his dad.

Peter was astonished by the tall building. The outside had looked like it was made of mirrors. Peter couldn't understand why. Nobody needed a mirror outside that high up. He held his dad's hand as they walked into the building.

Inside, there were a lot of people. There were people behind a counter saying hello as people walked in, they said "Goodbye" when people were leaving. And it seemed like people were going in every direction, even in directions where people couldn't go. Peter started to panic. Richard picked up Peter into his arms.

"It's alright," Richard comforted the small boy. "We'll find a spot where there's not a lot of people."

And Peter's dad did as he promised.

They went in a glass elevator by themselves, up several floors to the fiftieth floor and into a large, empty room with tons of tables. Peter didn't see many chairs though.

"Richard," A man called from down the long hallway. Richard followed the voice, carrying Peter. The voice belonged to a man, who was reading a file in an office. "I had planned for us to work a little on the arachnid activities, but if we need to change today's plan --"

"No, that's fine," Richard said. "We just need to find a nice spot for coloring."

Peter smiled, "I brought my zoo coloring book."

"That's great," the man smiled. "Peter's welcome to color in here. We can keep the door open."

Richard hesitated for a moment, wondering if Peter would panic if he wasn't in the room with him ... but he would be working down the hall. He wouldn't be hard to find. "That sounds good," Richard nodded before looking at Peter. "Doesn't it, Peter?"

"Yeah!" Peter said, more excited about coloring. "I'm gonna color a beetle, a lizard and a crab."

"Wow! That's a lot of coloring!" The man said, almost too enthusiastic, but Peter took it kindly. "I'll meet you at the station, Richard." The man said, before leaving the office. Richard carried Peter to the man's desk, setting him down in the large chair.

"Peter, I need you to be on your best behavior, alright?" Richard said softly. "I'm going to be in the big room with the tables, the one that we saw outside by the elevator. If you need me, I'm just outside. Okay?"

"Okay, Daddy!" The boy chirped as he pulled off his bookbag. He pulled out his coloring book and set it on the desk. As he was digging for his crayons, Richard carefully moved all the loose papers out of the way, in case Peter decided to freestyle color. He pressed a soft kiss against the top of Peter's head before heading out.

After a fully colored blue beetle, Peter flipped the page to a lizard. He remembers seeing a lizard in the magazines that his dad has. They were green. He carefully picked his yellow-green crayon and started to color carefully -- or as careful as he could. He was still working on his fine motor skills.

"DAD! DAD! DAD! DA-" A boy ran into the office where Peter was coloring. The boy look as shocked to see Peter as he was to see him. "You're not my dad."

"No," Peter said. "I'm not tall enough to be a dad."

"Yeah," The boy said, standing in the doorway. "You are small."

"Nu-uh," Peter protested. "My aunt says I've grown like a weed."

"I don't know what that means," the boy said, sitting in one of the chairs across the desk. Peter continued to color. The boy adjusted himself in the chair, leaning more on the desk. He cautiously watch Peter color the lizard green. "I would've gone with purple."

"I lost my purple," Peter stated. He lost it somewhere between his aunt and uncle's home and his house.

"What about the other purples?"

"I only had one," Peter reached to his side and picked up a dark green crayon. "I do have two greens."

"What about other colors?"

"I got blue, yellow, orange," Peter said, pointing to each crayon as he recited the color. He paused for a moment. "Where's red?" Peter started to panic, searching for the red crayon. He just had it. He saw it this morning. He couldn't find it on the desk, it wasn't in his chair, and it wasn't on the floor from what he could see. Even if it was on the floor, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get off of the chair. Peter's eyes started to well up with tears. "I-I-I was g-gonna color a c-crab," He struggled to say, fighting tears.

"Crabs can be blue," The boy said, handing Peter the blue crayon.

"But crabs are red."

The boy quickly pushed himself off the chair. Peter thought he was going to find his dad to tell him that he was crying. Peter was supposed to be on his best behavior and crying wasn't that. He started to wipe his tears on his sleeves. He then saw the boy digging in the drawer of the desk, pulling out a large box of crayons and handing it to Peter. "We can share."

Peter was surprised. He didn't expect him to find him more crayons. He also wasn't sure if he's seen such a big box of crayons. He's always had the small packs. "That's a lotta crayons." He took the box hesitantly. 

The boy dug into the drawer and pulled out his own coloring book and walked back to his chair on the otherside of the desk. He opened the book to a tropical bird.  Instead of reaching for his own crayons, he borrowed Peter's orange. "My name's Harry," he said. "What's yours?"

"Peter."

"I'm four years old," Harry said, as he started to color the toucan's beak.

"I'm three," Peter said proudly holding up three fingers.

"I'm older!" Harry grinned, as if he never met someone who was younger than him. "I'm in charge."

"Nu-uh," Peter whined. And that was the end of the argument. They colored, sharing crayons and facts about their animals, with some "facts" a little less factual than others ("Tucans can fly around the world three times in a row." "So can lizards." "Nu-uh." "Prove it.")

\------

Peter remembers the first time Harry came to his house. They played with Peter's racetrack, a steep downward slope, big enough for two racecars. Harry loved it. They had pizza for supper.

He also remembers the first time he went to Harry's house. They played with Harry's racetrack, which had several loops and could race five cars at a time. Peter liked the Jurassic Park themed one, there was a dinosaur attached. He's never seen the movie, but he liked the dinosaur. They had chicken piccata and angel hair pasta. Peter didn't know what that meant, but it sounded fancy to him.

Peter also remembers the first time Harry came over after he moved in with his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. It felt like forever since he's seen his parents, but in reality it was two weeks. Uncle Ben recently used the spare key to get into his house and get Peter a few more toys and clothes. Peter didn't know why his parents' trip was taking so long, but he knew they were coming back. They said they were.

Harry had came over because his mom had to go somewhere. Peter couldn't remember where, a job interview or a doctor's appointment, but Peter didn't mind. He loved hanging out with Harry, didn't matter where. He remembered his aunt worrying about how Harry would look at their home, but Harry loved it. He loved the way the house spoke when he stepped on the stairs and he loved Peter's new room. The two boys loved how there were new places to hide for hide and seek. And the banister worked perfectly for a single car race track. Ben made a mental note to pick up Peter's racecar track next time he went to Richard's home, but that didn't stop Peter and Harry from playing on the banister over the next several years. They had spaghetti and hotdogs, with the hotdogs slices strung through the noodles. Harry loved it. It was often requested at play dates after that.

\-----------

Peter remembers the first heartbreak that he experienced.

His Uncle Ben sat him down at the table one day. He couldn't remember what day exactly, but he got out of school for it. Uncle Ben had picked up him and told him they had to talk at home. Peter now wonders if it was for Ben to try to figure out how to explain his parents weren't coming home.

Ben had been over at Richard's home earlier that day, to pick up something for Peter. He wasn't expecting to have Peter for the first few weeks of school, Richard and Mary had planned on them returning home before then, but something at the university caused them to stay another week. As he entered the house, he heard the message machine beep. He checked it, in case it was a utility threatening shut off.

_Today at 7:12 a.m.:_

_Hello Mr. Parker. This is Dr. Flemming from the university. We wanted to make sure you and Mrs. Parker made it home alright. We heard there has been trouble at the airport and weren't sure if that was your plane involved. Please, let us know when you make it home. Thank you, goodbye._

Ben stopped. He listened to the recording again before turning the TV onto the news, confirming the missing plane. Their plane left London at 5 p.m. and was supposed to arrive last night, but it had disappeared near Newfoundland. The National Guard was searching for those on board, including Ben's younger brother and his sister-in-law.

It was later that evening when Ben found out the scraps of the plane were found. Some bodies were discovered -- none of them Richard or Mary.

Ben sat with Peter at the table while May stood in the kitchen, a handkerchief over her mouth, looking away from the two. She couldn't handle the news and she didn't want to tell Peter. But they couldn't not tell him.

For the rest of the day, Peter stayed in Ben's arms in a somber quiet. May would constantly come up, and place a soft kiss against Peter's head when his silence traveled through the house. She knew it was going to be tough. There wasn't a way for them to tell him that his parents were missing, and that they might not come back.

When they tucked him in at night was the first time Uncle Ben and Aunt May heard Peter speak up since they told him.

"Am I going to an orphanage?"

"No, Honey," May said softly. It hurt her to hear him ask that, knowing that they hadn't completely answered all of his worries. "You are going to stay with us. We won't let you go anywhere."

\------- 

Peter also remembers the first time he realized he loved Harry was also the first time he was heartbroken by Harry.

It was during the last few days of summer, right before they started junior high. Peter was already enrolled into the local junior high. It wasn't a bad school, just overpopulated. He half-wanted to go to a private middle school, but he knew he couldn't ask Uncle Ben for that. They were short on money and he can't say he wants to go to a school just for Harry (and more breathing room).

It also was the first summer that Peter watched Nightmare on Elm Street. Harry had picked the movie from their DVD collection and they started to watch it in Harry's den. They were going to watch the older film and the newer film back to back, and Harry insisted that they watched the one from the '80s first. Peter hated to admit it, but he just couldn't get into it. The blood looked too fake for him. He put his legs up on the couch and leaned against Harry, resting his head against Harry's shoulder. 

"Are you tired?"

"Nah," Peter responded, but the more the thought about it, the lame effects of the movie and the dark room actually made him tired. The next thing he knew, he was curled up on the couch, resting his head on Harry's lap. Almost ready to fall asleep. 

"Hey, lift your head," Harry said softly. Peter lifted his head, almost ready to get up, before he realized one of the couch's throw pillows was placed underneath it. He set his head back down and glanced up at Harry. There was something about Harry's smile that gave Peter butterflies in his stomach. He turned to watch the rest of the movie, but both boys ended up falling asleep before it ended.

It wasn't until the next day, when he got a call from Harry that they should've spent more time together this summer. He was heading off that afternoon to England for a boarding school. Peter didn't expect Harry to attend middle school with him, but he just thought he was going to attend school across the city, or something where it was way more manageable than this. Peter wanted to cry, he was losing his best friend. He didn't. He stayed strong and told Harry that they would write letters or send emails. Which they did for the first few weeks ... until they stopped. Peter doesn't know why they stopped, it just happened. 

He felt heartbroken, and he couldn't figure out why it hurt so bad.

Until he realized that he may have liked Harry more than just friends, but with Harry halfway across the world, he realized that even if he liked Peter back, it wouldn't be manageable. Plus, he was only thirteen. Were these feelings even real, yet?

The next time Peter was in love was with Gwen. There was several other crushes in between her and Harry, all of them girls, so he brushed off his heartbreak as frustration.

The relationship with Gwen felt real -- as real as high school relationships could get. He loved having classes with her, loved hearing her speak up in class, but he also loved racing her to answer the question. She was actually the first person he met when he transferred to Midtown Science High School. He joined halfway through his freshman year, coming in with only general classes, all AP courses. She gave him his tour and his heart raced. It wasn't until the fall of their junior year did he managed to ask her out ... sort of ... ("Do you wanna go ... or we could ... or even go to ... I mean if you don't want to --" "I'd love to.")

The heartbreak came a couple months later, when her father was killed in line of duty ... along side Spider-Man. Peter had just told Gwen that he was Spider-Man and her father stepped up to protect the city along side him. It was the first death Peter had saw in action. He took a break -- from being Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy. It wasn't until crime picked up a month later that he decided he needed to go back into action. It was the same time Gwen officially broke up with him, but he figured that was going to happen.

The next heartbreak came at a computer screen, with Google translate up.

He had been studying for his Latin exam in the morning, flipping through his book when he stopped at "mori." He recognized one of the words below it, "mortem." He knew it meant death, hearing "post-mortem" when people referred to something someone did after death. His book gave examples of modern language words that derived from the Latin base. Spanish had "muerte," French had "mourir," and Italian had "morire." It all felt too familiar.

He tried to think back to phrases Harry said in Italian over the past few weeks. Peter kept bugging him to tell him phrases in Italian, and to Peter, they always sounded romantic, but he never knew what Harry said.

It felt too familiar, so it had to be really recent. He thought back to his phone call with Harry several days before. It took several guesses on Google Translate, and going through his notes to find any time that Harry wrote a phrase in Italian in his Latin notebook. ("I'm teaching you both." "Yeah, but I don't need to know the Italian word for "fuck" for Latin class.") After several attempts, something finally came through in English.

_'I'm dying'_


	19. 'What the fuck, Harry?'

Harry waited on a bench in Central Park for Peter on their date. Peter asked him to meet him there, since their plans were in Manhattan and Peter needed to run an errand at the Daily Bugle before they do anything. He checked the watch in his wrist which read: 17:25. A click of small dial on the edge of the watch changed the screen "115/72, 80 bpm, 98.6F, 92%". It felt nice to be able to track his health and keep his withdrawals away. He wondered if his heartbeat was higher because of the serum, or if it was because he was excited to see Peter.

It's been five days since he last seen him, and even though he talked to him twice over the week, he's missed hearing his voice. Harry leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes. He's also excited just to be outside. After all the testing this week, he hadn't been able to go outside at all. Despite the Goblin sightings, which he didn't remember being a part of.

When he mentioned it to his dad, he was surprised that Harry didn't remember their mission. Apparently, Harry's mission was to drop off a manila envelope at the Daily Bugle and fly around for a photo opportunity. And they were in luck. Thursday morning, Norman brought Harry the Daily Bugle with the cover. Across the top and overlayed on the photo in bold, white print was:"GOBLIN UNVEILS FANTASTIC FOUR PLANS". The deckhead followed, "Plans for rocket, nuclear power testing exposed by New York's masked hero".

Harry remembers the plans that were "unveiled." While he was in the Baxter Building Saturday, the USB drive that he plugged into the computer towers created an open server that allowed the scientists in Oscorp to dig through the files, taking whatever they could find. They were looking for one in particular, blue prints for the new watch that Harry wore, which was originally for the Human Torch to monitor himself while he was away from the tower. After they found it, Norman ordered the scientists to take anything they can find, any dirt that they could spin. And they did.

While the rocket and the nuclear power testing were supposed to be "for the greater good" as Reed Richards explained in a news conference the following afternoon, the fear of the testings outweighed any positives, especially since it was kept secret. J. Jonah Jameson praised the Goblin in his editorial in the following issue, claiming that he proved how important vigilante transparency was.

"Hey," Peter's voice piped up, softly, catching Harry's attention. Harry opened his eyes to see him standing beside the bench. 

He jumped off the bench and went in for a hug -- which Peter blocked with a hand on Harry's chest. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Peter interrupted.

"What the fuck, man," Peter said hurting. 

"What?" Harry was worried. He was afraid that Peter found out that he was home all week and that he lied. He tried to take Peter's hands in his, but Peter pulled his hands away and pushed Harry back.

"Sto morendo?" Peter asked accusingly. " 'I'm dying?' What the fuck, Harry?"

Worse: Peter knows how to use Google Translate.

"Pete, I ..." Harry stopped. He wasn't sure how to tell him.

"What Harry?" Peter said. "Is this some kind of sick joke?" The entire way over from the Bugle, Peter tried to imagine why Harry would even make something like that up. He thought that he may have used the translator wrong, but he asked one of the writers who he knew was fluent in Italian, who confirmed him that his translation was correct. He still wondered why Harry would say such a thing ... until he saw the tears forming in Harry's eyes. " ... You're not joking ... Are you?"

Harry bit his lip, still thinking of what to say. "Dad says I'm not dying. He says he won't let me," Harry choked back the tears, looking away from Peter. "As if I have to ask his permission to die."

Peter grabbed Harry's hands, pulling him into a hug. He had so many questions, but he wasn't sure if Harry wanted to talk about it. "I wish you would've told me," Peter whispered, as Harry buried his head into Peter's shoulder.

"Technically I did," Harry said softly. "It was the only way I could."

"You could talk about it," Peter replied. _" In English_." The two were silent for a moment before Harry pulled away, wiped the tears that were streaming down his face on his arm, and pulled Peter back to the bench. The two sat down and Harry took Peter's hand and held it. He leaned his body against Peter's and took a deep breath.

"I have the same illness that my mom had," Harry said plainly, looking at their interlocked fingers. "My muscles are deteriorating. It hurts like hell when I don't take my medicine, and I forget to take my medicine a lot more than I should. If my diaphragm or my heart is infected by the disease --" the words felt caught in Harry's throat, he couldn't get them to form. 

Peter squeezed Harry's hand. He was terrified as soon as he said it was what his mom had, and knowing that it hurts, he now understood why Harry woke up in pain after homecoming. "But the medicine helps, right?"

"Kind of," Harry said. "It's experimental. So it's not completely healing me, but it's stopping it from happening." He paused for a moment, making sure he wasn't talking too much about the serum. "But they're looking into it. It does help, in a way."

Peter could feel himself shake. He couldn't stop. He couldn't think of his life without him. "Harry ... I can't lose you." 

Harry let go of Peter's hand to wrap his arm around his waist, pulling him in for a hug. He didn't get why Peter or Norman cared about him so much, but he can't lose them either. "I'm not going anywhere, Pete." Peter laid his head against Harry's and the two stayed in their embrace for a few minutes in silence before Peter spoke up.

"I hate how you didn't tell me," Peter whispered.

"I didn't want you to worry," Harry said quietly. He felt more put together after their talk. He stood up and reached his hand down to Peter.

"I'm worrying now," Peter said, rolling his eyes as he took Harry's hand and stood up. "So what's the difference?"

"Pete," Harry sighed, as he took Peter's arm in his. They had dinner reservations to make. "You stress about everything. You freak out every time we hear a police siren."

"I do?" Peter asked nervously. He knew he did because his Spidey-sense would go off at almost any sign of danger. It was almost hard to tune out sometimes.

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "I mean it's cute and all, but I didn't want you to worry." He paused for a second before continuing. "I also may have just found out about the illness, too. It was after we ... went to the hospital."

"So you're not allergic to lobster?" Peter said, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought that giving lobster up would be easier than facing the truth," Harry said, truthfully. "Plus, Catholics do it. Right? For Lent?"

"That's any meat but fish, Hare." Peter laughed.

Their evening was filled with awkward silences and jokes that felt a little too true to be funny. And every time the silence returned, Harry hated himself for toying with Peter. Harry looked across the table at the beautiful man that he took for granted. Why should he be putting Peter through this heartbreak? "Non ti merito," Harry whispered.

"Hare, I don't know if I want to hear Italian," Peter said, pushing his food around on the plate. "Not without Google Translate." Harry nodded, leaning back in his seat. He waved for a check and a few to-go boxes, since it seemed like neither of them were hungry.

Their next stop was to Broadway, well off Broadway.

Norman Osborn is a supporter of the arts, well, of a few of the local theaters in New York City, and often under a pen name. There were often times when scriptwriters don't have enough funds, the theaters suggested that they mailed their scripts to Oscorp, in care of Emily Lyman. Norman would sponsor a few of those, in Emily's name, and in return, many of them sent free tickets, whether it was courtesy of the theaters or the scriptwriters who can now see their work on stage. Norman would often pass these tickets to Harry, who enjoyed theater as much as his mother did.

Harry told Peter he didn't know much about the play, that he remembers seeing the script book in his mother's collection, but he never read it. 

Partially through the first act of "Angels in America," Harry realized he should've read the synopsis, so he could have a heads up about taking Peter to a play where half of it focuses on a man who's dying. Peter squeezed Harry's hand during the scene. They left during intermission, quiet on the walk to Harry's car.

The trip back to Peter's house was quiet. Harry couldn't help to think where it went wrong and where he should've stopped. It was his fault that the night was terrible and he was trying hard not to take it as a sign.

Peter, on the other hand, was more concerned with Harry's health. The entire time he watched Prior Walter on stage, he couldn't help but think of Harry. Peter wanted nothing more than to hold Harry in his arms, and tell him that everything's going to be okay. 

Peter's also on edge, making sure he doesn't seem as stressed out as he is. He didn't realize Harry noticed how stressed and worried he was all the time, but it's hard when you're trying to fight crime but also trying to be a normal boyfriend on a lunch date. He's only left Harry alone at lunch once or twice, but that was already too many times.

Peter hardly noticed the car stop in front of his house.

"I think we should break up," Harry said, breaking the silence, but his voice hardly louder than a whisper.

Peter looked over at Harry, who's grip on the wheel was turning his knuckles white. Harry wouldn't even look toward Peter. Peter knew exactly why he was doing this, he didn't want him to become Louis Ironson, the boyfriend in the play who eventually left Prior Walter.

"No." That took Harry off-guard. He finally looked at Peter, who bare a stern complexion. "You and your dumb dying ass are stuck with me."

"Pete --"

"No," Peter interrupted. "If you're break-up has to do with the fact that you're not wanting to make me suffer, then you should've thought about that before you went through puberty in sixth grade." Peter opened the car door and stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

Peter paused for a moment before reopening the car door. "Stay the night," He said with a softer tone. "Please."

Harry softly nodded as he got out of the car. He walked to the other side and pulled Peter into an embrace, burying his head into Peter's shoulder. "Non ti merito," He whispered, again.

"Harry," Peter begged.

"I don't deserve you," Harry repeated, in English this time.

Peter leaned back from their hug, he gently caressed Harry's face, cupping his jaw with his palm. "That may be true, but I definitely deserve you." He pressed a gently kiss against Harry's forehead before taking his hand and leading him inside.

"I had a Latin test today," Peter said, trying to change the subject all together. "It actually went well. I'm thankful for your help in my notes."

Harry smiled as Peter lead him upstairs. "You liked me when I hit puberty?"

"Who didn't?" Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled him into his bedroom. 

"We should talk more," Harry said, almost laughing. He shut the door behind them. He worked on taking off his shirt as he watched Peter fix his bed. "Because that's when I realized I liked you."

"No way," Peter laughed as he started to undress. He tossed his button up shirt and slacks on his chair, before realizing he was going to have to iron them again. He grabbed it and folded it, a little sloppy, but not enough to make a huge mess. "During the summer before --"

"I went to England," Harry finished, as he stripped to his underwear.

"God, we need to learn to communicate," Peter rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "Come on," he said, slightly tugging Harry to his bed.

The slipped into the bed, Harry resting his head against Peter's chest. He checked his watch one final time, "21:10, 123/81, 74 bpm, 98.6F, 87%". He was actually surprised to see how early it was. He was exhausted, and he could feel Peter was too. He closed his eyes as he focused on Peter's heartbeat.

"Hey Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy one month."

Harry laughed, awkwardly. "Happy one month."


	20. 'I got the whole evening planned'

Harry woke up early.

7 a.m. on a Saturday early.

He tried to fall back asleep, but no bone in his body was tired. He sighed softly and relax, trying not to move too much to avoid waking Peter. He laid quietly in bed, listening to Peter's heartbeat.

"Are you awake?" Peter whispered softly. Looks like if Harry doesn't have to worry anymore.

"Yeah," Harry replied, leaning his head up to look at Peter, pressing a gentle kiss against his jawline. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"Don't be," Peter whispered. "I shouldn't have yelled at you in a park."

"I should've discussed my problems in English," Harry mumbled. It was easier in Italian and only about 15 percent of the population in New York would know what he was saying. Harry rolled off of Peter's chest and beside him. He stretched his arms obnoxiously and smirked at Peter. "Let's go get breakfast. My treat."

"We can eat --" Peter stopped, as he stared at the inside of Harry's arm. He gently grabbed Harry's arm, using his index finger to lightly draw a line from bruise to bruise. One, in crease of his elbow, had a slight green tint to it, different than the darker bruises which had a more violet tint to them. He glanced to the other arm to notice more. "What ... are these from?"

Harry jerked his arm away from Peter, instantly regretting it. He sat up and looked at the bruises. He knew exactly what these were from. He sighed softly. "From blood work."

Peter regretted grabbing Harry's arm in the first place. He sat up, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder. "We can eat here," Peter whispered, completing his sentence from earlier. "We don't need to go out." The two sat in silence before Peter spoke up again. "Let's start over."

"From day one?" Harry joked. "I don't think I have that much time --" Peter leaned off of Harry and shoved him.

 "No, smart-ass," Peter rolled his eyes. "Our anniversary date. No disorder mentions, no stressing out, no badly timed plays --" 

"I didn't realize what it was about --"

"The sub headline is literally 'a gay fantasia on national themes,' " Peter rolled his eyes.

"That's vague as fuck though." 

Peter sighed dramatically. There was no fighting Harry on this. "Anyway, let's start yesterday over again. Actually, let me plan it."

"Pete." Harry protests Peter paying just as much as Peter protests Harry paying.

"No, let me handle it," Peter said, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist again. "Four o'clock. My place. Wear ... clothes." Harry groaned jokingly. Peter pressed a kiss against Harry's cheek. before slipping off the bed. He reached out for Harry's hand. "Come on. I'll make us coffee and pancakes." Harry smiled and took Peter's hand. Maybe a mulligan anniversary would be a good idea.

\---------------

After breakfast, Harry went to Oscorp. He had his last blood work for the week and needed another serum dosage. Instead of a shot, he received two pills and a glass of water.

"What's this? Aspirin?" Harry joked.

"It's the serum, Harry," Norman said. "From our gatherings, this should last longer than the shot. It will take a little longer for it to kick in, since it's not injected into your blood stream."

"Is it safer?"

"Than you injecting the serum into your vein in the middle of the night while suffering from muscle spasms?" Norman asked, almost rhetorically. Harry took the pills, understanding what his dad meant. "It's still in alpha and we need to know how long the effects last. You need to monitor your vitals, so nothing big tonight."

"So I have to rain check on the strip clubs, hookers and cocaine?"

Norman glared at Harry.

"I'm joking," Harry leaned back in his chair. "Peter and I are having a chill night tonight. We'll probably hang out at his place after dinner."

"Harry," Norman started sternly. Harry knew what was coming up **:** another sex talk.

"No! Dad!" He jumped, trying to save himself from embarrassment. "Not in front of ... " Well, they're not his friends. "The doctors."

" _Are_ you sexually active?" One of them asked. "We should know for the charts." Harry groaned, ignoring his doctor's question. He was ready for the appointment to be over.

His dad cautiously eyed Harry as he avoided the question. He realized that Harry wasn't going to answer, he wasn't sure if Harry would even answer if he was out of the room. He rolled his eyes and checked on the charts, comparing Harry's recent blood work.

The same doctor approached Harry to take his blood.

"So?' The doctor whispered as he prepared Harry's arm. Harry glanced at the doctor before looking away.

"No," he muttered as he picked up his phone with his free hand.

"He's not ready?" The doctor raised his eyebrow. 

"Not the right time ...  _for us both_ ," Harry clarified, rolling his eyes. He didn't want the doctors to gossip about what Harry was up to. He hardly liked any of them.

Harry turned his attention away from the doctor and to his phone. He'd think he'd be used to getting his blood drawn because of his numerous tests all this week, but it still made him squeamish to see the blood leave his body. He sent a quick text to Peter, hoping that he would help distract him.

_H: What are we doing tonight?_

_P: You'll see_

_H: ugh_

_H: What do I need to wear?_

_P: Clothes_

_H: Ugh_

_H: What do I need to dress /for/?_

_P: Outside_

_P: And inside_

_H: UGH_

\-------

Harry arrived at Peter's earlier than he meant to. He knew he probably should've stayed the extra thirty minutes to finish up homework he has to make up, but that's what Sundays are for. He wasn't sure what exactly to wear since Peter never specified. So he wore jeans and a soft baseball t-shirt.

Peter greeted him at the door. "Hey! You're early," He pecked Harry's cheek. "Let me grab my wallet and we can head out." He hurried upstairs and picked up his wallet. He looked at the web shooters on his desk, morally fighting to leave them behind. He sighed as he grabbed them and his bookbag, where his Spider-Man suit hid in a hidden seam. He went down the stairs, smiling as he saw Harry waiting for him. Not as if he was going to do anything else. "Aunt May! We're heading out."

"Stay out of trouble!" She called back, from the kitchen. 

"We will," the boys said in harmony as they left the house.

"So, where am I driving us to?"

"Brooklyn."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Peter smiled. "I got the whole evening planned."

\-------

It was supposed to be a simple outing.

A trip to Brooklyn for a cheap delicious cheeseburger, then to Coney Island for a few rides and games.

Peter had the whole night planned out. He planned to use his last Bugle paycheck to help pay for it.

But after the cheeseburgers, nothing was playing as he planned.

The two stood in line for the ticket booth. Harry had been adamant about riding a roller coaster at the Back to School Bash, so Peter thought they should go on the Cyclone first. Peter wrapped his arm around Harry's waist, pulling him in close as they waited.

Peter felt shivers send down his back. He internally groaned: His spider-sense.

Soon, there was screaming from behind them. Not the fun-type of screaming that you would expect at an amusement park.

Harry and Peter turned around to look, to see a ginormous gray man piling through people.

"Oh no," Peter said, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him away from the danger and away from the Rhino. The two ran toward safety within the city, as it seemed like the Rhino was attacking Coney Island, but soon a crowd followed fleeing the danger.

Peter could feel people bumping into him, some bumping into Harry as he would feel his grip on his hand being pulled away. He held on tighter, making sure he didn't lose him in the crowd. He needed to keep Harry safe ...

But Harry wasn't going to be safe if the Rhino was causing terror.

Peter felt someone else shove his shoulder, pushing him out of the way. The dozen people that ran from the ticket booth soon turned into a sea of faces he didn't recognize.

And maybe this is what he needed.

He felt Harry's grip tug as someone pushed Harry ... and Peter let go.

He tucked down and took off backward, shoving his way through the crowd.

He needed to stop the Rhino.

Spider-Man needed to stop Rhino.

"Peter!" He could hear Harry faintly call in the distance, frantically searching for his lost boyfriend. "Peter!"

He couldn't turn back. He pushed his way out of the crowd and into an alley. Quickly, he switched into his costume, hoping nobody would see. Even though he had his costume change down to less than 30 seconds, it felt like time was pressing -- which it was. The longer it felt, the more he wished he actually wore it underneath his clothes.

As soon as the mask was on, he strung a web onto a light post and swung his way back to the Rhino.

"Hey ugly!" Spider-Man called toward the Rhino, who had quickly making his way through the amusement park. "There's a height requirement on those rides, you know."

He watched as the Rhino took his stance, preparing to charge toward him.

"I'm pretty sure there's a weight limit, too," Spider-Man said. "You might need to lose a few tons."

The Rhino started to charge toward Spider-Man full-speed. Spider-Man waited a moment before jumping, tagging him with a web and pulled backward. Suddenly, he realized this was a bad idea as the Rhino had no stopping point, and Peter was now his tail. As the Rhino crashed through a building, he pulled Peter behind him, dragging along for the ride.

Holding on with one hand, Spider-Man webbed a cabinet and swung it toward the Rhino, hoping to stop him.

Nothing.

He took a swivel chair and threw it at him. 

Nothing.

He grabbed a desk.

Nothing.

The Rhino made it completely through the first building and continued to the next. Spider-Man knew he had to think of something quick.

Spider-Man sighed and hoped his plan worked. He sprayed a web in front of the Rhino, catching him in his run and stopping him from any more destruction of the building.

As soon as the rhino was stuck, Peter let go of his web, tumbling to the ground and quickly spraying another, completely entrapping the Rhino. He sighed and as he brushed the dirt off his costume. He sat on a file cabinet that was knocked over in the action, trying to catch his breath.

"Man, for a chubby guy, you can run," Spider-Man said, out of breath. He watched as the Rhino tried to fight through the webbing, but remained stuck. "Dude, I had a date tonight and I promised it was going to be perfect and this isn't perfect. What are you even doing?"

"I heard an Osborn might make appearance on Coney Island," he said plainly. "May have heard they're worth a lot. Not that I had plans for kidnapping." He smirked and shrugged, or as much as he could in a web. "Cannot prove anything I do not admit too."

Peter was shocked as he realized he wasn't just dating his best friend. He was dating one of the most influential people in New York City, someone who was worth a lot in ransom money. He sprayed the Rhino's mouth with web for good measure as he ran out of the building and back to the alleyway where he ditched his bookbag.

Tucked up, underneath a fire escape, it remained.

Peter quickly climbed up, grabbed his bag and pulled his phone out. 10 missed calls and 8 texts, all from Harry.

_H: Where are you_

_H: Peter_

_H: Peter_

_H: Answer your phone_

_H: Police are here_

_H: They took us to MCU Park please come here_

_H: Peter_

_H: Please be safe_

He pulled his mask off and called Harry. It barely rang once before Harry answered.

"Peter!" He exclaimed, sighing in relief. "Oh my god, Peter! Are you okay? Where are you?"

Peter was hurt, knowing how much Harry worried about him. "I'm okay," he said. "I'm okay."

"Where are you?"

"Uh ... a fire escape." Peter looked down the alley toward the destruction. "I ran down an alleyway, out of the way."

"What happened? You were there and then I couldn't find you," He could hear Harry fighting back tears. "I kept calling for you."

Peter ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think of an excuse. Bringing his hand down, he noticed a bit of blood, something must had hit him when he was being dragged through the buildings. He sat down on the fire escape.

"I fell," Peter lied. "I think I hit my head on the ground or something, but I fought through the crowd to an alleyway."

"Peter that's the opposite of okay. Which alleyway are you in?"

"The unlabeled one."

"Asshole."

"Hare, I don't know," Peter sighed. "I'm fine, I promise."

"Not if you hit your head," Harry protested. "I'll come find you. I can bring one of the EMT guys to you --"

"Harry, the Rhino is still out, you're not going anywhere." Which was true, until the police find the Rhino trapped, the evacuees at the baseball field were stuck there, including Harry.

"Just ... stay on the phone with me," Harry said. "I need to make sure you're not going to pass out from a concussion."

"I can do that," Peter said, as he stood up and carefully slipped his clothes on over his suit. Thank God for sweaters. He should've done this in the first place. "I honestly don't think I hit my head hard enough for a concussion."

"You say that then next thing you know you're passed out on the fire escape," Harry said. Peter could hear him roll his eyes. "Besides, I --" Harry stopped talking. Peter could hear a faint voice on the other side of the line. "No I can't. Not yet," He heard Harry say, softly away from the speaker. "No. I need to --" Harry sighed loudly before returning back to Peter, his voice filled with frustration. "Pete, they're taking me home."

"Who's taking you?"

"The sergeant," Harry said. "Dad heard I was here and called for a retrieval. They're going to take me home in a squad car."

"What about your car?" Peter felt bad. He thought they should take the subway since it was his date night in the first place. But he talked himself out of it, allowing Harry to drive them.

"They said they're going to send someone to pick it up when it's safe," He paused for a second, said something to someone else before speaking back to Peter. "Pete, I need to go. They're making me get off the phone. I'll send someone for you, okay?"

"Okay," Peter said, knowing that as soon as he hangs up the phone, he's booking it home.

"You still off of Surf?"

"Yeah, I think I went up 15th," Peter lied, as he was a block over. "Harry, I'm near the subway. I can take it home."

"Pete," Harry protested. Someone on the other side nagged Harry. "Pete, I gotta go. Let me know when you get home. Or at least out of Brooklyn, alright?"

"Will do," Peter said.

"Don't be dumb," Harry practically begged. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Peter said, before he heard the phone click. He waited almost ten minutes before he mad-dashed toward the subway.

Peter texted Harry as soon as he jumped on the Q line and that it was going to be at least another 20 minutes before he's able to jump on the J line. Harry texted back almost instantly.

_H: Are you sure you don't have a concussion?_

_P: I'm sure._

_H: Please let me know when you get home._

_P: I will do._

_P: Do you want me to call you?_

_H: Not yet_

_H: Still in police car_

_H: They made me sit in the back_

_H: I'll send a pic_

_H: <photo attachment>_

_H: <photo attachment>_

Peter grinned. The first photo was semi-serious. A very somber look trademarked by the Osborns. His hair normally perfectly tossed back, laid beautifully down with a few locks needing to be brushed away from his face. A soft blue glow from the police car's lights lit his face.

The second photo was Peter's favorite. It was the Harry he knew. Harry had brushed his hair out of his face and his serious look was replaced with a large grin. The maroon light captured Harry's essence, a much goofier, happier version of the man in the previous photo. And Peter was glad to call them both his.

_P: Get you a man who can do both_

_H: You got a man who can DO both_

_H: Aye_

_H: it's funny because i'm into both_

_H: mainly you_

_P: There's more than two genders Harry_

_H: shit youre right_

Peter looked up, realizing that his stop arrived sooner than he thought. He grabbed his bag and dashed out the door and hurried to the J line.

_P: You're so gorgeous I almost missed my stop_

_H: You could've just came to Manhattan_

_H: And stay with me._

_P: I wish you told me that before i jumped lines._

_H: Sorry_

_H: Next time a villain decides to disrupt our date you're welcome to stay with me_

Peter thought about what the Rhino told Spider-Man. That he was there to kidnap the Osborn. He sunk in the subway bench, now going to be constantly worried about every time they go out if he needs to prepare to save Harry from kidnappers.

He's going to have to tell Harry that he's Spider-Man.

_P: Hey I need to tell --_

Peter erased his message, typing a new one in place.

_P: I'm sorry about our date_

_H: Don't be_

_H: We're even now_

_P: Hardly._


	21. 'I can't go back to prison.'

As soon as Harry entered Oscorp, his dad was waiting for him in the lobby. Harry opened his mouth to protest whatever his father was ready to throw at him, but he was interrupted by a hug from his father.

Harry hesitated for a moment before embracing the hug. It felt like his dad was being more comforting over the past few weeks than he was in the past several years. He half wondered if this was actually his dad. 

"I'm glad you're okay," Norman said, pulling away from the hug. He glanced up at the sergeant who walked Harry in. He nodded, thanking him and watched as he left the building. As soon as the front door was closed, Norman gestured for Harry to follow him to the elevator. "Let's go up and test your vitals." Harry rolled his eyes and followed. Nice moment over.

His vitals were fine, lower than what they should've been by 9 p.m., but they were fine. His serum level, which should have been at minimum of 75 percent, was at 62 percent. Norman contributed the serum draining to the sudden rise of adrenaline. He wanted to test this out the next day with a fresh dose. Which meant their job for next week was moved up several days. Harry didn't mind, but that meant he had to get up earlier than he wanted to do finish his homework.

He didn't have much, his dad sent one of his assistants to the school last week to collect Harry's homework for the week. Harry did most of it while he was under house arrest, well lab arrest. He just needed to finish up work in Latin and calculus, along with working with Peter on the Energy project they have coming up. Maybe they'll get together in the evening to work on it.

By noon the next day, Harry could feel the serum wear off. Something that had always happened early afternoon, something Harry had always blamed his afternoon slump on the lack of stimulation in his classes. But after a week in the lab, he knew it was more than just lack of caffeine. His muscles ache, as if he needed to stretch or do a bit of yoga, but stretching almost made it worse. He had a faint headache and knew in an hour he would feel nauseous. He was surprised it was hitting him early, but it made sense if his serum-level drained a little after the Rhino appearance at Coney Island. He closed his calculus book and grabbed his phone. If he was going to pass out, he might as well do it in the lab.

Downstairs, his father and the scientists were already busy at work. They barely noticed Harry as he came in.

"I hope they're paid over time," Harry said as he nodded toward the scientists. He sat down on a swivel chair to wait. "Or at least, exempt with good benefits."

"You done with your homework?" Norman said, keeping his attention focused on the computer screen where a scientist was showing him figures.

"Mostly," Harry said, as he leaned back into the chair and pivoted. "I have a few problems left in calculus and need to get together with Peter, but my blasting headache and shoulder pain told me I should come here."

That got Norman's attention.

"Are you okay?" He left his station to check on Harry, who brushed him off.

"I'm fine," Harry shrugged. "I figured if I were to pass out, it might be better --"

Norman had forced pills into Harry's hand. He left to the other side of the room to retrieve a water bottle. Harry rolled his eyes as he took the bottle and took the pills.

\-----------

Several blocks away from Oscorp, Peter had met up with Gwen Stacy at a local coffee shop. They had a paper due tomorrow in English and their professor was stickler for grammar errors. Some errors could bring your grade down an entire letter. They had printed their papers out that morning and were going over each other's, catching missing commas or accidentally misspelled words.

"You sure Harry won't mind?" Gwen asked, pulling out a folder from her bag. She pulled her paper out and handed it to Peter, then pulled out his paper that she printed for him.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, taking her paper, realizing that his assignment didn't have a cover page like hers.

"I'm serious, Peter," Gwen glared at Peter until realizing that he didn't even bring it up to Harry. "Oh my god. You didn't tell him?"

"About studying?"

"About studying with me." Gwen wasn't sure whether to be stunned or annoyed. "Is he going to get mad or jealous or anything?"

"Jealous?" It hit Peter that he was here, in a coffee shop, studying with his ex-girlfriend which he forgot to mention to his boyfriend. "Oh shit."

"Yeah," Gwen said, reaching for her paper to take back. Peter shook his head.

"It will be okay," He took out his pen from his bag. "I'll mention it to him later. I'm not hiding anything from him."

"That's good to hear," Gwen chirped. She used her pen to write on the top of his paper 'needs cover page.' She glanced at his first page, then to his work cited, making sure it was in the correct citation format. "So, you have... you know ... with Harry?"

"Have I what?" Peter looked up at Gwen when he realized she wasn't going to add anymore to her question. His eyes widened. "OH. I -- UH -- " he cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "I don't think you need to know about our sex life."

"Oh my god, Peter!" Gwen exclaimed. She smacked his arm with his paper. "That's not what I'm asking!" She realized she was being louder than she meant. She lowered her voice to match his. "I mean about the spider thing."

"Oh," Peter said, leaning back in his chair sheepishly. "Oh no, not at all."

"You really should," Gwen said, before moving back to his paper. "It would make everything easier."

"No it wouldn't and you know it," Peter said, biting his lip. "I mean, imagine if I told you from the beginning that I fight crime."

Gwen hesitated. She knew she would've reacted badly. She had already been worried about her father coming home at night, and she wasn't sure if could handle feeling the same with a boyfriend.

"See what I mean?" Peter said, glancing at her paper. He marked a few missing commas. "Plus after the Rhino incident, I'm not sure if I want to tell him."

"The Rhino incident?" Gwen asked before setting his paper down. It looks like they weren't going to be studying for a while. "Were you guys there last night?"

Peter nodded. "So was Spider-Man." He sighed before leaning in toward Gwen and lowered his voice. "The Rhino told ... Spider-Man that he was after Harry for ransom. He said he was worth a lot." Peter leaned back into his chair and sighed. "Gwen I can't tell him. He's only going to be in more danger ... I can't tell him."

"I really think you should," Gwen said softly. "Which would be worse? Harry finding out or a villain finding out first?"

Peter thought for a moment. "Can I get a third option?" Gwen sighed.

"You telling Harry and he's prepared whenever a villain shows up."

"I'll take the fourth option," Peter said, focusing back to Gwen's paper. "I keep my lives separate, keep the bad guys in jail and I don't have to stress Harry out anymore than he already is."

Gwen sighed. There was no winning this conversation. She picked Peter's paper back up and circled an 'effect' that was supposed to be 'affect.'

Halfway through reading Gwen's paper, chills went down Peter's back.

He sighed and handed Gwen her paper back. On cue, the lights flickered in the coffee shop once before completely shutting off. 

"I'll be right back," Peter said, grabbing his bag and dashing out the door. Gwen rolled her eyes. She wished he'd stop answering every call he heard, but that doesn't look like it's going to happen soon.

As Peter left the building, he realized the the power-outage was more than just the coffee shop. The blackout stretched for blocks as people looked outside to see a probable cause. Peter knew it was more than just a regular blackout or else his spider-sense wouldn't have gone off.

Peter ducked into an alley and quickly changed into his suit before swinging out, searching for trouble. Soon, he realized that the Baxter Building, a few blocks away, was also experiencing the power outage. Peter knew that Reed Richards would've prepared for a blackout and had backup generators. Spider-Man took off in that direction.

\-----------

"Just like last time," Norman spoke over the communications device. And it was. Harry took out a mile of the city's power, which took over five hours to turn back on. Then he took down the security, just as easy as last time, and he found himself back in the lab, one of the few floors with power. 

Harry stuck the USB port back into the computer tower. He went back to the tables and waited. Within a minute, Reed Richards came entering the room.

"Who are you?" Reed demanded as he wrapped his arm around the Goblin to keep him still.

("Steady, Harry.")

"The Green Goblin," the Goblin jeered. He felt Reed constrict his arm.

"So you're here to exploit our projects," Reed stated, more than asked. He glanced toward the computer towers, remembering what Sue Storm had told him. There stood out a blue USB drive. "Ah-ha." He walked over to it, keeping the Goblin restrained. He eyed it before extending his free arm back to the table beside Goblin. He opened a drawer and pulled out a rubber glove. "I heard your files are electrifying."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Reed pulled his arm back to him, slipped on the glove and removed the drive.

("Now!")

The Goblin squeezed his fist, pressing a button on his palm, triggering his costume to send volts of electricity through the sensors attached to his suit and into Reed's grip. Reed yelled in pain as he tightened his grip then loosened as he collapsed on the ground. The shocks enough to paralyze him temporarily.

The Goblin approached Reed, bending down and taking out a small vial with a needle on the end. He pressed it into Reed's arm, taking a sample of his blood.

"Thanks for being gullible, Richards," The Goblin taunted as he pulled the needle out, locking the sample.

"Gee, I didn't realize the Red Cross does house visits for donations," a voice chirped from behind him.

The Goblin turned around, surprised to see Spider-Man hanging around.

"I didn't realize the Baxter Building had a lost dog department," the Goblin retorted. He slipped the sample away and walked away from Reed.

"Yeah they actually run an animal shelter on the fifth floor. Great place. Tons of cats," Spider-Man said, walking toward the Goblin.

("Take the opportunity. Go to phase two.")

"Is there a reason you made a house call, doctor?" Spider-Man asked, hoping the Goblin would spill his plans in front of him.

"Stopping by to see a good friend, huh Richards?" The Goblin called over his shoulder, knowing fair well that Reed was unconscious.

Spider-Man looked toward Reed, waiting for a response. Shivers went down his back.

Instinctively, he strung a web out, caught a glowing orb on its flight toward Spider-Man. He quickly swung it out the broken window, letting go of his web. As soon as it left the building, the orb exploded, sending small electricity particles out.

"Ball one," Spider-Man said, full attention on the Goblin. The Goblin threw another orb, this time, Spider-Man stopped it in the air, attaching it to the ceiling. Soon, it exploded, shocking the building, flickering the lights.

("Careful.")

"Ball two," Spider-Man smirked. "Maybe I should pitch." Quickly, he webbed a desk and threw it toward the Goblin. The hit sent the Goblin backward, and out the window, falling toward the streets.

And for a moment, Harry actually enjoyed the falling.

His body did ache after that hit, but there was something about the air rushing by him that was almost calming. He had wondered what it would feel like if he jumped from a building, but never had solid plans to. Just always a passing thought. Guess it was something he could cross off his bucket list.

("Harry! Focus!")

Before Harry turned on his repulsor beams or consider pulling the glider off his back, he felt his abdomen being grabbed and jerked to a stop.

A web extending from his suit up to the lab. Spider-Man had grabbed him. He looked up toward the lab as he was pulled up.

"I can't kill anybody," Spider-Man called. "I can't go back to prison."

Harry rolled his eyes. As if this scrawny superhero has been to prison ... right?

("Change of plans.")

"I got it handled," Harry whispered as he waited to be pulled back into the lab.

"I can't tell if its the suit or you," Spider-Man started. "But one of you needs to lay off of pizzas." Harry rolled his eyes. It was the suit. He hoped.

After a few more insults, the Goblin was only a few floors below the lab. The Goblin grabbed the web from his chest, pulling it off.

"Hey --" The Goblin squeezed the web in his hand, sending electricity up to Spider-Man. Spider-Man let go of his web, causing the Goblin to fall again.

The Goblin quickly pulled his glider off his back, flying up to the lab. Spider-Man laid on the floor, paralyzed from the shock.

("Smart thinking.")

The Goblin took out his extra vial and stuck Spider-Man. He started to extract his blood before Spider-Man jolted, webbing the Goblin's hand off of him and toward the wall.

"So that's what you're after?" He asked, pulling the needle out of his arm. "Did you even bring bandaids?" He glanced back toward Reed, who was useless on the ground. "Oh god, I hope you didn't use the same needle for us both."

The Goblin pulled his arm off the wall and extended his hand toward Spider-Man.

"You don't think I'm just going to hand this over --" Suddenly, the vial flew out of Spider-Man's hand and into the Goblin's. It must have been magnetized. "Dude."

("Get out of there.")

Suddenly, another orb was flying toward Spider-Man. Without thinking, Spider-Man had caught it in his hand. "Oh shit --" He threw it upward to the ceiling, barely missing being electrified. He turned to the Goblin, who had left with no trace. 

Spider-Man sighed before checking on Reed. He's chased the Goblin before, losing him almost every time. It wasn't going to help that this time, he had a reason to lose him.

Reed was slowly waking up. Which was great for Peter. That meant he didn't have to do CPR or mouth-to-mouth on him. He couldn't remember the last time he took a class and wasn't sure if he could perform it well, or if regular CPR would work on a man who could stretch his body.

"Hey, Richards, I got a question for you," Spider-Man stated, leaning against the counter. "You don't have any diseases that I could pick up through needle sharing, right?"


	22. 'I believe it.'

After Spider-Man left the Baxter Building, he did a patrol of the area making sure the Goblin was done for the afternoon. He went back to the alleyway where he ditched his bag and changed back into his regular clothes.

He stopped by the coffee shop to see Gwen sitting outside with a coffee and a book. "You're still here?"

"Yeah, I figured we should get this done," She said, handing her paper back to him to finish. "Plus, they offered discounts on any milk-based coffee drinks that don't need electricity since the power outage might go on longer than last time."

"Good thing Harry's got me into pour-overs," Peter said, grabbing a pen before going inside. It was going to take a while for his coffee to be made, he might as well have something to do. Gwen rolled her eyes as she put her bookmark back in her book and switched to Peter's paper.

It was almost ten minutes before Peter came back with his iced coffee, handing Gwen's paper back to her.

"Ha, funny," She said, pushing it back toward him.

"No, I'm through," Peter said, paper still extended toward her. "I finished it inside while I was waiting." She took her paper and finished reading his. Soon, she handed his paper back to him.

"You're bad with run-on sentences," Gwen said. Peter skimmed through his paper and her purple-inked corrections. "Hey," She lowered her voice. "What was going on?"

"I -- uh," Peter thought about what happened, unable to sum it up simply. "Don't ... know." He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It was the Goblin, the one that the Bugle has raved about, he broke into the Baxter Building, again, I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah, he's the one who leaked Fantastic Four's nuclear testing," Peter explained. "I think he's broke in there before. He seemed ... too comfortable."

"Did he take anything?" Gwen said, curious.

"Nothing --" He stopped, rubbing his arm where the Goblin had stuck him with a needle. "Yeah, actually." He lowered his voice. "Blood samples. From Reed Richards and I."

"What? Why?" 

"I ... don't know," Peter said, slumping back in his chair. It almost seemed as if the Goblin was expecting Spider-Man to be there, as he had a second vial ready for a sample. He can out run Spider-Man, and he had the opportunity before attacking Peter. He glanced at his phone to see a text from Harry.

_H: I'm done with precalc, going to shower. ready whenever you want to come over._

Peter smiled at his phone before looking up at Gwen.

"Hey, I'll catch you tomorrow," He stood up, tucking his now-corrected paper into his bag.

"You should really tell him, Peter," Gwen said softly as she gathered her stuff. "I honestly think it would be better if you tell him."

"I'll ... think about it," Peter said, grabbing his coffee off the table. "Thanks for waiting on me."

_P: If you wait, I'll shower with you._

_H: Rain check._

\----------

At the Oscorp lab, Harry handed the two vials to one of the scientists, who quickly went off to test them.

"The fuller one is Richards," Harry said. "I couldn't get a full tube of Spider-Man. I don't know if I didn't shock him well enough or what, but he just didn't stay down."

"That may be what we're looking for," Norman said. "Our main interest is finding someone who can self-heal, even if it's something small as an abrasion or --"

"Recovering from a shock," Harry finished.

"Right," Norman said, as he looked over the scientist's shoulder as he started to test one of the blood samples. "With an ability like that, we wouldn't have to find a cure for the disorder. You would self-heal the muscle damage as soon as it starts." Harry nodded. He'd rather cure the disorder completely, but he knew that would take years, and he wasn't sure if he had years. He needed time and this could buy it.

"We still are planning to go on with phase three," Norman said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "We will see if we can move it up to Saturday."

"Am I ready for phase three?" Harry said, as he started to take off the suit. 

"We will have to see."

"What if Richards or Spider-Man is what we're looking for?" Harry asked. "Would we need to keep doing this?"

"We will have to see," Norman repeated. Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to get a straight answer.

"I'm going up to finish my homework," Harry said, as he put the suit away. "Peter's coming over in like --"

"Write down your vitals before you go up," Norman told Harry, not raising his eyes from the computer screen. 

Harry sighed as he glanced at his watch and wrote down the numbers quickly, "105/70, 98 bpm, 98.6F, 81%", then left for upstairs to wait for Peter to tell him he's coming over.

_H: I'm done with precalc, going to shower. ready whenever you want to come over._

_P: If you wait, I'll shower with you._

His heart skipped a beat. He hesitated over the touch screen. It took him a full minute before he realized he's standing in the elevator with the door shut and no direction picked. He pressed the penthouse button and decided on a text.

_H: Rain check._

He smelled too much like sweat to claim that he was just working on math homework. As much as he'd enjoy the company, he needed to shower before Peter got there.

\----------

Harry laid across Peter's lap with his energy book resting on his face. He was too tired to hypothetically fight coal regulations, especially when he thinks they're fine the way they are. Plus, they weren't presenting until Friday, so they had plenty of time to come up with something by then.

"Are you actually reading?" Peter asked, not looking up from his book. He sat on Harry's bed, legs extended for Harry's resting pleasure.

"I'm glad you asked," Harry said, pulling the book off his face. He sat up, facing Peter. "I am not."

"Gee, could've fooled me," Peter said, closing his book. They weren't going to work and he knew it. "So, what are you going to do instead?"

"Well," Harry said, scooting closer to Peter. He traced Peter's jaw with his hand, leaning toward Peter. "I was hoping you." Peter rolled his eyes and smirked. He should've saw it coming but he didn't mind. He leaned forward, completing the kiss. 

Harry moved his hand from Peter's jaw to the bed. He slipped his other hand behind Peter, guiding him backward to lay on the bed. He broke away from the kiss, placing a soft peck on Peter's cheek before leaning up. He ran his hand through Peter's hair, exposing the small gash right below his hairline. He had already checked it whenever Peter arrived (and checked for a concussion, none in sight), but it just hurt knowing that Peter was hurt because Harry had lost him. The gash did look like it was healing well, especially for the first day. He pressed a gentle kiss against the gash.

"I put Neosporin on it," Peter said, not sure if that was a warning for Harry or just informing him.

"It looks like it," Harry said, leaning back down to press a soft kiss against Peter's lips. "It looks good. Did it bleed a lot?"

"A lot more than what it looks like it should," Peter said, gently touching the cut. The gash wasn't big, maybe an inch long and bled until he got to the subway station, where he found a clean napkin to help stop the blood. It didn't hurt until he had to switch lines to head back to Queens. He tried to remember what exactly hit his head, if it was debris from the buildings that Rhino destroyed, or if he hit a lot more desks and cabinets than he remembers. Maybe he did have a concussion. "I mean it's fine now. I'm fine."

"Good," Harry said pressing kisses into Peter's neck. He ran his hand down Peter's chest and underneath his shirt, resting his hand above Peter's heart. Peter smiled as he leaned into Harry's kisses. Harry could swear he could feel Peter's heart beat on his lips, slowly rising with each kiss. Harry smirked as he adjusted his body on top of Peter's, slowly grinding his hips into Peter's. 

Peter moaned, as he tangled his fingers into Harry's hair. He spread his legs, welcoming Harry's motives. The gentle touch of Harry's fingertips running against his skin sent a shiver of memories through Peter. Sometimes, it still surprised him that the gentle touches that Harry gave him within the first few weeks of school meant more than just a simple accident while passing a note or stealing a fry. And as much as he's a little ashamed of missing the hints and signs that Harry liked him back; it would have saved him the anxiety of deciding when he would tell Harry that he liked him -- _if he told him_. He half-wished he told him sooner, so they could have done _this_ sooner, but he was fine where they were now. More than fine. Much more than fine --

Peter moaned as Harry nipped at his earlobe. He thanked God that Norman was busy at work, several floors below them. He wasn't sure if he could be quiet with Harry teasing him like this. He felt Harry's hand start to travel south and fiddle with his jeans' buttons.

"H-hey," Peter said, pushing his hips against Harry's hand. He hesitated for a second, trying to form his question in the right way. "Uh ... condoms?"

Harry stopped trying to undo Peter's buttons. "Shit," he mumbled, pressing his forehead against Peter's. He knew he was forgetting something. He was supposed to go out and get condoms and lubricant but with his homework and his ... work at Oscorp, he's been overwhelmed. "I'm sorry ... I'd promised you --"

"No, hey," Peter said, leaning up to press a gentle kiss against Harry's lips. "It's fine. We can do it some other night." He leaned up to kiss Harry again. "We can still order pizza. And do ... this for a bit longer." He ran his hand down Harry's body, resting on his hip. 

"Can we change that order?" Harry smirked, pressing a kiss against Peter's jaw. "We'll order pizza later." He slipped his hand back under Peter's shirt and met his lips with Peter's. He slowly started to grind his hips into Peter's, deepening their kiss.

 But that wasn't enough for Peter. He almost wished he stopped by a bodega and picked up the items himself. He couldn't take the anticipation anymore. He pushed his hips back into Harry's -- hard. Harry gasped, breaking away from their kiss. Peter smirked as he did it again, this time pulling a moan from Harry.

Peter grinned, gently kissing Harry's chin. "You good?"

"Oh yeah," Harry breathed. "So good."

"Good," Peter said, leaning back into their kiss. He wrapped his arm around Harry and rolled him over, positioning himself on top of him. Harry grinned as he leaned back into the pillows in his newfound position. Peter continued Harry's moves, grinding into his hips, picking up the pace. Harry moaned, wishing he remembered to stop at the store. He needed so much more than this. He pulled at the edge of Peter's shirt, working it up. He broke the kiss long enough to pull it off of him and toss it aside. He ran his hands up and down Peter's bare arms, forgetting the muscle that hid beneath his shirts. He moved his hands Peter's back, gripping onto his shoulders as Peter moved his hips harder into Harry's.

Harry moaned as Peter kissed his jaw, leaving a trail down his neck. Harry closed his eyes as he leaned into Peter's pressure -- finding it hard to breathe as he focused on Peter.

No wait.

He was struggling to breathe.

"Pete --" he gasped softly. His chest constricted, he leaned back into the bed, but Peter had followed him pressing another kiss against his neck.

"Pete --" he gasped again, moving his hands from Peter's back to his chest, starting to push him off of him.

Peter leaned up with Harry's push, not sure what Harry was doing, until he realized that Harry gasping wasn't out of pleasure. "Harry!" He climbed off of Harry and helped him sit up. Peter started to panic. "I'll go grab your dad --" 

Before Peter could shift his weight off the bed, Harry had grabbed his wrist.

"No, please," He coughed. "I just ... need ... a moment."

"Harry --"

"I'll be okay," He wheezed, pulling Peter back toward him. "I ... need a breather." He wrapped his arms around Peter's waist, resting his head on Peter's shoulder.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Peter gently running his hand up and down Harry's back, as Harry caught his breath.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I don't know --"

"Hare, don't," Peter said softly. "You don't need to apologize." He pressed a soft kiss against Harry's temple. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed, keeping his head on Peter's shoulder. "I'm okay."

Harry wasn't sure what happened. His chest grew tight and his heart sped up. It's almost what he expects an asthma attack feels like, but he has never had one. And he's glad that it wasn't asthma. He wasn't sure if he would've been able to wait one out without an inhaler.

"Do we ... need to go get Norman?" Peter asked cautiously. 

Harry shook his head gently. He doesn't need his dad for every time his disorder is acting up. He could handle himself. He was before his dad witnessed one of his withdrawals. 

Maybe that was a good thing, though. They could understand what's going on with his health, keep track of it with his watch. He leaned his head slightly off of Peter's shoulder to glance at his wrist. "105/70, 102 bpm, 99F, 45%" He swore it was close to 80% an hour ago.

"No," Harry said softly. He lifted his head fully off of Peter's shoulder and smiled. "I know it's hard to believe, but I am tougher than I look."

Peter chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against Harry's forehead. "I believe it."

Harry leaned back into the pillows and pulled Peter with him. Peter hesitant at first, as his boyfriend five minutes ago was struggling to breathe, but trusted his judgement. 

Harry leaned over Peter, grabbing his phone from the side table.

"So," Harry said as he brought up a search page. "Where are we getting pizza from?"


	23. 'I'm not jealous.'

**Harry's not the jealous type.**

He did just fine during Technology and Cultural Relevance when Peter was paired up with nearly everybody but him. He swore that during September, Mrs. Phillips knew they were dating (even if Peter didn't know at the time). She would call out pairs almost tauntingly.

"Gwen Stacy and ... Seymour O'Reilly." 

"Polly McKenna and ... Charlie Murphy."

"Peter Parker and ... Vanna Smith."

Harry died inside.

He's not jealous. He's just ... wanting to spend more time with his best friend.

He was too focused on Peter that he missed his name called until Brian McKeever moved his desk to Harry's.

Their assignment was to read a section of the text and answer the pamphlet together. Easy work.

Unless your partner isn't paying attention.

"Okay, so the first television was demonstrated in 1927. But when was it common to see a television in every --" Tiny looked up and sighed. "Harry, I'm not going to do the work for both of us."

"What?" Harry turned his attention back to Tiny. "No, yeah, I get you." He looked at the pamphlet. "The first television was demonstrated when?"

"1927," Tiny sighed. "Are you interested in Vanna or something?"

"What? No," Harry laughed. He glanced down at the paper and the next question, which Tiny had partially asked out loud. His ears perked up as he heard giggling behind him. He turned see Vanna laughing and playfully shoving Peter's arm. They just started dating, Flash's party was only last week. It's not like they were exclusive. Harry turned back around and flipped through his book. "1962," he said plainly.

"You definitely are," Tiny said, as he wrote down 1962 on his page. "Or else you won't get bothered every time Parker said a dumb joke to her."

"When and what was the golden age?" Harry ignored Tiny, or as much as you could when he's your assignment partner. 

"Or you'd already be done with your work instead of glancing at them every thirty seconds," Tiny continued. "Honestly with the you're-gonna-die glares you're giving them, I'd say you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Harry said. "It's 1947 to 1960."

"I'd say you're a little jealous," Tiny said, as he wrote the dates down. "Clearly you're into Vanna. That or you're into Park --" Tiny stopped talking as he watched Harry tense up. Tiny gasped softly before lowering his voice. " _Are you_ into Peter?"

"I'm going to write down the rise of popularity in television --"

"Are you?"

"I said I was going to," Harry said.

"You know what I'm asking."

Harry bit his lip. Peter and Harry just talked about how they were going to keep their relationship low-key. "You can't tell anyone."

"I won't, you can trust me," Tiny smiled before flipping through his book to find the Golden Age. "It's Flash you gotta worry about. He's bad about secrets."

"Fuck," Harry groaned quietly.

"Mr. Osborn," Mrs. Phillips called out from her desk. "Language."

Harry apologized as he heard Vanna giggling again.

"Hey Tiny," Harry whispered, leaning over his desk. "Tell me: Does _Peter_ look interested in Vanna?"

"Yeah, I mean, they're making out so --"

Harry turned around quickly in his chair to see Vanna quietly reading out loud and Peter writing something down. Peter glanced up and smiled at Harry. He gave a soft wave before continuing his work. Harry turned back to Tiny, his face red.

"Definitely jealous."

**Harry's never been the jealous type.**

In the third grade, Harry was "dating" a girl named Emma. She had long, red hair and freckles splashed across her face. He remembers her being the prettiest girl on the playground.

But as soon as he saw her on the swing set with Kyler Thomas, he went searching for Gemma, her best friend. If Harry wasn't the only boy that she was going to hang out with, then she wasn't going to be the only girl he hung out with. 

Once he found Gemma, he kissed her. He wanted Emma to feel the same way he did.

Except Emma was better at expressing her feelings than Harry was.

The next day, Emma confronted him. When Harry refused to apologize for his actions ("It was barely a kiss! It didn't mean anything."), she pushed him down the slide.

At the end of recess, Gemma slapped him to earn Emma's friendship back.

He remembers telling Peter a few days later when they were hanging out.

"Are you and Emma still dating?" Peter asked as he reached for a piece of pizza. 

"Nope," Harry said as he handed Peter an xbox controller. "She broke up with me."

"Why?" Peter asked as he took the controller with one hand and shoved the pizza in his mouth.

"Because I kissed her best friend."

"WHY."

"Because --" Harry stopped. He sighed as he sat down next to Peter and grabbed a slice of pizza. "I don't know. I saw her with this boy named Kyler and it made me mad, I guess."

"So you were jealous?" Peter said, as he watched the Mortal Kombat opening sequence start on the television screen.

"I wasn't jealous," Harry snapped. "I just ... was mad that she wasn't with me."

"Jealous," Peter said, shoving the crust into his mouth.

**Even if Harry was the jealous type, he grew out of it.**

Harry's favorite coffee shop was Culture Espresso.

It had a quirky vibe, something fun to get a quick drink at.

He took Peter there on a Saturday once, before heading to Bryant Park. They didn't have much planned, but they figured there was always something going on at Bryant Park, they might as well see what's going on. Plus, it was less busy than Central Park on a Saturday afternoon.

"Oh, I've been here before," Peter said, noticing the chandeliers. "Gwen used to take me here for study dates."

"Oh," Harry said, a little surprised. Any time Peter casually mentioned dating Gwen, it sent shivers down Harry's spine. He wasn't sure why, it just did. It's not like he didn't like Gwen. He does, he swears. She was fun to talk to and was helpful whenever Harry needed help on an assignment for Technology and Cultural Relevance. Harry straightened his back and tried to change the subject. "I think I'm going to get a pour-over. I'm not feeling espresso right now."

"That sounds good," Peter said, not sure exactly what he was getting himself into. "Iced sounds good, too."

"Yeah," Harry said nonchalantly, as he held Peter a little closer than he would. "Iced dark roast."

Peter now realizes that it's definitely a coffee drink -- just not espresso. "With cream."

"I'll pass on the cream," Harry smiled. "I need something strong."

"That's why I'm here, right?"

"Sure," Harry laughed. "Keep telling yourself that." He couldn't help but to think of Peter standing in line next to Gwen, discussing what they wanted to order.

After that date, if they were going to Bryant Park, Harry took Peter to Hole in the Wall Coffee instead, claiming that their flat whites were to die for.

**He's not jealous.**

"Hey, Harry."

Harry turned around to see Gwen Stacy.

"Hey, Gwen," He said, shutting his locker. He was half-running late, as usual on 'A' days. It would help if he left earlier, or stopped getting coffee for him and Peter.

"I won't be in Tech and Culture. I have a college visit. Will you give this to Peter?" She handed a jump drive to Harry. "He left it at the coffee shop Sunday."

"Uh, sure," Harry said. He set one coffee on the top of the lockers as he pocketed the jump drive. "Did you bump into him there or something?"

"No," Gwen laughed. "It was from our study -- he didn't tell you."

"Uh, no," Harry said, as he picked his coffee off the top of the locker. "He didn't."

"Harry, we were just studying -- "

"What college are you going to visit?"

"I told him to -- "

"No, it's fine," Harry said, turning on his heel to head to class. "I didn't want to know anyway." He actually wasn't sure if he was referring to the study date that Peter and Gwen had or if he was referring to Gwen's college visit. "I'm running late. Have fun on your visit."

Gwen sighed. "Columbia and ESU," she called after him.

Harry sat Peter's coffee down on the table next to him.

"Hey Harry," Peter chirped. Harry shrugged, opening his notebook. This wasn't the reaction Peter usually got in the morning. Sometimes, if it was before the bell, they might sneak a quick kiss before Mr. Greenwich could call them out for PDA, but this morning, Harry wouldn't even look at him. "Are you feeling, okay?"

Harry softly shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. He could hear Peter, at least.

"If you're not feeling good, you could leave," Peter whispered. "You have a reason --"

"I'm fine, Pete," Harry snapped quietly. He bit his lip. He softly exhaled. "I'm fine." Harry wasn't sure if he was telling Peter or himself.

Peter took a sip of his coffee and sat in awkward silence next to his boyfriend. They normally would goof off during Principles of Engineering, sharing notes or just chattering away. It almost hurt to be in silence.

After fifteen minutes, Peter spoke back up.

"Are you sure you're feeling well?" He whispered. "We can skip class if you need to. Just go outside or something."

Harry glanced at Peter before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the USB drive, putting it on the table and sliding it to Peter.

"Gwen said you left that at the coffee shop," Harry whispered back. "On the study date you forgot to mention."

"Harry -- "

"And right before you came over, too," Harry snapped. "It's like I was a booty call ... without the booty part." Referring to the fact that even though they had planned to have sex, they didn't.

"No, you _have_ a booty --"

"You know what I mean --"

"Boys, do I need to separate you?" Mr. Greenwich called from the front of the class. Peter didn't realize how loud they were getting.

"No."

"Yes."

Mr. Greenwich looked at the two boys, surprised that they gave different answers. "Quit talking about booties or ... " He wasn't sure whether or not to separate the two, as one of them would get their way. " ... You can find yourselves out of class."

"Yes, Mr. Greenwich," The boys mumbled in unison.

Peter picked up the USB drive from the table, staring at it in his hand. He glanced at Harry, who he could tell was upset, even if he didn't want to talk about it. And he wasn't going to talk to him about it in class. Not with other people here. Even if they were able to get a conversation without Greenwich catching them. Peter hesitated before raising his hand. "Mr. Greenwich?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"I just need to clarify, can we talk about any booty, or just not Harry's?" That pulled a few laughs from across the room. Harry punched his arm, a little harder than playful. Mr. Greenwich sighed, internally trying to figure out why he didn't consider teaching at a college level.

"LIbrary, now." Peter shrugged as he gathered his items and started to head toward the door. Mr. Greenwich glanced at Harry and gestured toward the door. "You, too, Harry."

"Why?" Harry asked. "I didn't say booty." Mr. Greenwich gestured toward the door. Harry groaned, grabbed his stuff and followed Peter.

"Thanks, jerk," Harry mumbled.

"It's not like you were excited for Principles anyway," Peter said, gently grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him in the opposite direction of the library. "Come on."

Harry hesitated. He was upset with Peter. He didn't want to talk. But he went with Peter anyway.

They went outside to the common area. Peter pulled Harry to a bench for them to sit down. Peter held Harry's hand as the sat in silence for few moments.

"It was just a study session," Peter said breaking the silence. He pulled his bag onto his nap and pulled out his paper, handing it Harry. "I needed her to look at my English paper. That's all we did. We met at the coffee shop because it was a halfway point between her place and yours."

Harry handed it back without looking at it.

"Peter, I don't need you to prove it to me," Harry said softly. "I'm just -- " He tried to search for the words he wanted to say. " -- frustrated. That you didn't mention it. It's like -- It's like you were keeping it a secret."

"Harry, I'm sorry I didn't realize --"

"It's nothing," Harry said, sipping his coffee, which was now cold. "I shouldn't be upset anyway --"

"Yeah, you should," Peter said. "I forgot to mention it to you. I should've. Especially since we just talked about communicating."

Harry realized maybe he shouldn't be as mad at Peter. He literally kept a secret from Peter in the past week -- and he still hasn't told him about not actually going to Europe or being the Green Goblin. Two things he doesn't think he could bring himself to tell Peter.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I think I was just being ... uh --"

"Jealous?" Peter laughed. Harry shoved his arm, before leaning back against him.

"Something like that."


	24. 'Do you got web shooters?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of state for a bit, so here's a chapter!! (Also, shittiest wifi at the super nice hotel like ???? which kills me because i've been writing my chapters through ao3 instead of word document)
> 
> Also!! Thank you for the comments! :) I appreciate them.

Peter's came close to telling Harry that he was Spider-Man a handful of times.

He swears he's going to, but there's always something that comes up.

Something always gets in the way.

**He swore he was going to tell him on Halloween.**

He was going to surprise Harry when he picked him up before going to Flash's party.

They were told costumes or no-entry. Strict Flash Thompson orders.

Peter and Harry had discussed couple's costumes, but they felt like that may have been too cheesy.

They did decide on a theme: Uniforms.

Peter thought he'd be clever.

He'd wear his Spider-Man outfit and tell Harry that it was his uniform.

Tell him of his ... job and how he protects the city.

But as soon as he opened the door and saw Harry in a police uniform, all words left his mind.

"Holy shit," Peter whispered as he looked Harry up. His pants hugged his hips. His shirt fit tightly on his torso, sleeves rolled up. It took all of Peter's strength to not reach out and touch Harry. And Harry could tell. He smirked. Peter cleared his throat. "Is there a problem officer?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry said, leaning against the doorway. "Apparently, we had the different ideas of a uniform."

Peter laughed. "I thought this would be fun." 

"It is," Harry smiled. Peter wore most of his costume -- his first real costume -- keep his mask in his hand. He thought if he wore his regular Spider-Man uniform, that might give too much away at the party. He kept the functionality of the costume to a minimum, keeping his web shooters in his pocket rather than on his wrist. "I just wished I knew you were thinking vigilante-type of uniform. I would've been like Captain America or Wonder Woman."

"Wonder Woman's not real," Peter laughed.

"She's real enough for me," Harry smiled as he pulled Peter out of the house and toward the car. "Come on, let's go. Before Flash drinks everything."

"Are you going to read me my Miranda rights before shoving me in your car?"

"Oh yeah," Harry stopped in place and turned around. He wrapped his arms around Peter's waist, smirking. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you."

"But Officer Osborn," Peter said, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck. "What if I want your body?"

"Well that's all you had to say," Harry leaned up and kissed Peter. "Come on, let's go before I write you a ticket."

The ride was short. Flash's house was only a half-mile from Peter's place. Peter told himself that he would tell Harry after the party.

As soon as they got to the door, it opened revealing a Spider-Man holding a beer.

"Hey!" He pulled the mask off his face, revealing a half-drunk Flash. "You guys are late, we're already three drinks in."

"I tried to get him to hurry," Harry said, grabbing Peter's hand and leading him inside. "But he had crime to fight."

It hit Flash that Peter was dressed up as Spider-Man, also.

"He-ey! We're the same," He smirked.

"Uh, yeah," Peter laughed, realizing that he probably should've assumed someone else would consider dressing up as Spider-Man. "Great minds think alike."

"Yeah! Do you got web shooters?" 

"U-uh, no."

"Lame," Flash lifted his wrist and sprayed silly string on Peter. "Drinks on the table. Beer, vodka, everclear -- it's all there." He spotted Liz Allen and smirked. He went to sneak up to her and pick her up.

"I might have to handcuff you to me," Harry smirked. "I don't want anyone to mistake you and Flash as a costumed couple."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Peter smirked back.

"I don't know if I'm drunk enough for bondage, but I'm into it," Harry pressed a quick peck on Peter's lips before pulling him toward the alcohol. "What are you feeling?"

"Something weak," Peter said. "I still have a hangover from last time."

At the end of the night, Peter was too drunk to tell Harry that he was Spider-Man. Or for Harry to believe him.

"I'm a spider -- Spider-Man," Peter mumbled into Harry's shoulder as he helped him walk down the sidewalk.

"Sure you are."

"No, I'm Sss-Spiber-Man," Peter persisted. "With webs and every-THING."

"I wish I could get drunk," Harry mumbled under his breath as he helped Peter into the car.

**Peter tried to tell Harry at Thanksgiving.**

Harry had told Peter that since he went to boarding school, they never really celebrated Thanksgiving at the Osborn household. Harry had refused to come home during Thanksgiving the first few years because he was mad at his dad. Then, his school in California took breaks during Thanksgiving, almost forcing Harry to come home during Thanksgiving. He admitted to faking sick one year, so he didn't have to come home.

Peter and Aunt May invited Harry over to celebrate with them. Harry hesitated to accept until he saw how much it meant to Peter.

Peter met Harry at the door.

"Hey," He whispered. "I should warn you that this is the first Thanksgiving we've had in a while."

"What? I thought you guys did big dinners every Thanksgiving," Harry said, remembering Peter complaining about how much turkey leftovers they had.

"We used to before Uncle Ben -- " He stopped mid-sentence and looked inside for Aunt May. He couldn't see her around the corner. He knew she would be upset if he mentioned that's why they didn't have a 'real' Thanksgiving last year. She'd probably be more upset that Peter had noticed. 

"Oh shit," Harry whispered. "I didn't realize --"

"No, don't worry about it," Peter interrupted. "I just wanted to warn you, there's a lot of food. She goes all out on holidays. I think Aunt May's happy that there's another mouth to feed."

"Good thing I skipped lunch," Harry laughed.

"No, you're not listening," Peter smiled as he lead Harry inside. "Chances are, you're leaving with leftovers for you and Norman."

And Peter's warning was right.

There was enough food to feed a biker gang for lunch and supper.

Harry was not prepared.

"Before you dig in," Aunt May said, as she set the gravy on the table. "Name one thing you're thankful for."

"Aunt May --"

"I'll go first," She smiled at Peter. "I'm thankful for these two boys in my life -- these two men ... " She paused, remembering the two boys that used to race cars down the banister. Oh, how they have grown. "Peter?"

"I'm honestly really thankful for you Aunt May," Peter said. "And all that you've done for me."

Aunt May smiled. "Harry?"

"Oh, uh," Harry thought for a moment before speaking up. "I think the past few months have taught me there's so much to be thankful for. I'm just ... really thankful for the anchors in my life." He smiled at Peter. "I'm thankful to be back in New York and to find my sunshine."

"That's really sweet Harry," Aunt May said, as she passed him the green beans. "We're glad you're back, too."

"I'm also glad to finally have an Aunt May Thanksgiving," Harry smiled as he scooped some green beans on his plate and passed it to Peter. "Peter's told me how delicious your holiday meals are."

"We'll good thing there's plenty of food," Aunt May laughed. "You're welcome to take some home to your father. I'm sure he'll enjoy having a delicious meal after a busy day of work."

Peter leaned over to Harry and whispered. "Told you."

After two hefty servings of supper and a slice of pumpkin pie, the boys laid on Peter's bed in a food coma. 

"I underestimated how much food Aunt May would cook," Harry mumbled, his hand tangled in Peter's hair as Peter rested his head on his stomach.

"I tried to warn you."

"You did," Harry laughed as he closed his eyes. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Hey Harry ... what did you mean by your anchors and sunshine?"

"You really," Harry said. "Norman's been an anchor recently, too. But you're both -- an anchor and the sunshine."

"What do you mean by anchors?"

"Keeping me here," Harry said, staring at Peter's stucco ceiling as if it was constellations in the night sky. "Giving me a reason to stay here, a reason to keep fighting."

Peter realized that it might be more than just a kind gesture or phrase. "Hare, have you ... are you ... suicidal?"

"No, not at all," Harry said. "I just ... I was ... If something were to happen, I would have accepted it. Like, I wasn't going to do it myself, but if it happened, it happened." Peter leaned off of Harry's stomach and curled up next to him, wrapping his arm around him. He couldn't imagine Harry gone, he didn't want to imagine it. "I am fine though, I promise. I have reasons to stay living and to fight the muscle disorder. I think it helps that Norman and I actually talk now."

"And sunshine?"

"The future," Harry smiled. "You're my sunshine, Oscorp's my sunshine, and I'm hoping Columbia's my sunshine, too."

"When are they sending letters?" Peter almost forgot about college. It seems so far away, but it was sneaking up on them soon.

"First week of January," Harry said. "I was hoping that they'd let us know sooner, since it's Dad's alma mater, but it sounds like I'll get my letter with everyone else."

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You're my sunshine, too."

It was then Peter realized that if he was going to tell Harry, that he needed to tell him soon. Especially, if Harry thought they had a future together. Peter wanted that, he wanted that so much. Peter couldn't hide Spider-Man forever. He had the words formed in his mouth, but he couldn't get them to come out. Peter tried a different approach.

"What would you think if I skipped college for a bit," Peter said. "I considered joining the police force. Would you date a man-in-blue?" 

Harry hesitated.

"If I wasn't already dating you, no." He felt Peter tense up. "I mean -- don't take that the wrong way. It's just -- cops go through a lot. Between seeing a lot of shit and going through a lot of shit. I just ... would be terrified. All the time. I wouldn't know when you'd come home -- if you were coming home."

Peter wasn't sure what to say. He can't come out as Spider-Man now, especially if that's how Harry views dating a police officer.

"You in NYPD blue would be a sight," Harry said, trying to cheer the mood back up. "It would be a turn on."

"Do you still have your Halloween costume?"

"Are you planning on practicing?"

Peter laughed. "It's just an option. I'm still waiting to hear back from the colleges."

"They'd be a fool for not taking you," Harry said. "I promise you, you'll be accepted into all of them. I bet you'll even get a full-ride."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You're just jealous that I'd look good in those slacks."

"Not jealous," Harry said sternly, leaning up to kiss Peter. "Turned on."

**Peter swore to himself that he wasn't going to tell Harry that he's Spider-Man.**


	25. 'Why are you protecting Spider-Man?'

16:46

115/72, 82 bpm, 98.6F, 97%

Harry sat at a metal table in the Oscorp lab.

Waiting.

Today was the day that they were going to try phase three.

His dad had pushed it back in October once they realized the pills caused Harry's stamina to drain rapidly as his adrenaline rose.

It took more two failed sex attempts before Harry realized his problem was definitely pill related. He finally told Norman, who almost seemed like he knew and was just waiting for Harry to tell him. It didn't hit Harry until that night that he writes his vitals down every day and that there would've been an irregular pattern when he ends the day much lower than he normally would, or have a higher serum level after he took a dose after an incident without writing it down. He'd swore to make sure to take a dose before trying again with Peter, but Peter refuses until he knows Harry's medicine won't throw him into an asthma attack again. ("I want to see a doctor's note." "Pete, it's experimental." "Then ... it's going to be a while.")

Norman had thought that those asthma attacks would become a dangerous situation on a mission.

"Dad, I can handle myself," Harry argued. "I'll be fine. We'll start out on a fresh dose and --"

"And nothing," Norman snapped. "Harry, this isn't Richards or Spider-Man we're talking about. Rogers has fought in 'The Incident,' he's fought armies of a species we've never seen before."

"But he had a team," Harry defended himself. "If I can get him alone --"

"And how will you do that?" Norman paused as Harry tried to defend himself, at a loss for words. "Like you said, he's got a team. It's not going to be a walk in the park." Harry bit his lip. His dad was right. He was overshooting himself into a dangerous situation. The suit could only protect him so far. It didn't take long for a bruise to appear on his side from Spider-Man's table thrown at him. He was just lucky enough to be able to tell Peter it was from the Rhino incident.

Lucky was a bad choice of feeling for the incident.

He was terrified that evening. He lost Peter. He didn't know if he was safe. He tried to go searching for him, but it was hard to fight the crowd. Eventually, a police officer grabbed him and pulled him the other way, telling him that it was unsafe. That he needed to go to MCU Park and that they would find his friend. They didn't. His heart sank when he heard Peter was trapped in an alleyway, bleeding from a fall. He was filled with anger when he couldn't go and get Peter to keep him safe -- when his dad ordered an escort home. Says a lot about power when a CEO can get police to pick up his son.

Harry scrolled through his phone's photos as he waited on his dad.

The first few were misfit photos that came with today's Wall Street roundup. One of Harry's normal assignments was to keep up with the stocks, some days he found himself on Wall Street, but this week he just checked online. He'd saved the photos of the distraught traders so he could forward them to Peter for a quick laugh. 

He scrolled through the past few photos that were instagram worthy **:** a few photos of himself (some that he took and some that Peter took), drinks he's had (mainly coffee) and scenic views of New York City. Then, he found what he was looking for.

The last time he hung out with Peter, he snuck a few pictures of him. Peter enamored with a sting ray that swam above them. A soft glow from the aquarium's light highlighted Peter's face. Harry couldn't imagine being in love with anybody else. "Did you know that the largest species of sting rays can grow up to six and a half -- " He turned to Harry, realizing that he was taking photos. "Feet long," he laughed. He wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close. Harry smiled and switched the camera to face them, taking a few selfies. Peter laughed, pressing a soft kiss against Harry's cheek. "Come on," He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him away from the sting ray. "I want to take a few photos of you with the jellyfish."

"Harry." A strong voice broke up Harry's reminiscence about their trip to the aquarium last weekend. He looked up from his phone to see his dad and a few scientists had entered the room. "We're skipping phase three."

"But --"

"We got what we need."

Harry's heart stopped. He was cured. Everything was going to get better. "No way," he breathed.

"We need a larger sample for development," one of the scientists picked up. "Our sample was a decent size to start demonstrations --" Harry's heart sank a little. He wasn't cured. They hadn't even started lab testings. Just computer modifications. It was a step forward, but not a promise. 

"Harry are you listening?"

"No, sorry," Harry said. "I had a little hope that I was going to be better until he mentioned hypothetical-graphic testing is the furthest we've proved that the sample is the one."

Norman sighed. He hated when he saw himself in Harry. It reminded him that Harry was definitely his asshole. "The sample wasn't large enough to further testings. We need more."

"So do I have to break into Baxter Building a third time?" Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I think they'd start to pick up on something."

"It's not Richards," Norman said. "It's Spider-Man. He's the one."

"Okay," Harry said. "So what's our plan? He doesn't have a home base that we know of. We don't know much about him."

"We know someone who could help find him," Norman said, handing Harry a Daily Bugle. Harry looked at the cover 'SPIDER-MENACE STILL CAUSING TROUBLE'. Underneath the image in the byline was Peter's named circled in red ink. 

"Dad, no --"

"Harry, he's the only one that can get clear photos of him," Norman explained. "Peter might know his route or where he's likely to pop up --"

"What about keeping the serum secret?" Harry interrupted. "Peter's not dumb. He's going to figure something's up." Harry couldn't ask Peter to do this for him, even if he told Peter it was for the serum -- for Harry to get better. He couldn't have Peter figure out that he's the Green Goblin, that he's been harassing the Fantastic Four. Peter had faith in these vigilantes, unlike his boss at the Bugle. "Besides, he's gotten some good photos of the Goblin and we don't have a solid schedule or route for him."

Norman nodded, thinking of a plan. "We'll look at our previous interactions with him. See what times he appears and what pulls him out of hiding." He turned to one of the scientists who automatically handed him a tablet, with recent activity pulled up. "Amp up the electrodes. Let's see if we can stun Spider-Man long enough for a decent sample." As Norman searched for a common thread between their recent Spider-sightings, Harry thought about his own sightings, which all seemed accidental. The Goblin flying through Manhattan, and Spider-Man was short on his tail. The only meetings he's had that wasn't a fly-by was at the Baxter Building when he visited Richards and at Coney Island, when the Rhino appeared -- or so the reports say. Harry didn't see him then.

"It seems like he stays in Manhattan for the most part," Norman said, switching from their records to an online archive of the Daily Bugle. "With a few exceptions of Liberty Island, Yankees Stadium and Coney Island."

"Manhattan seems like the place to be," Harry figured. It seems like most of New York's vigilantes stayed in the borough. Such a fun place to live. He missed living outside of Oscorp, even if they stilled lived in Manhattan. They wouldn't be stuck in a middle of an Avenger clean-up. "What if we did a hostage situation? Get someone well-known that Spider-Man had to show up. De Blasio? Do you think he cares enough for Senator Schumer?"

"We are not doing a hostage situation, Harry," Norman said. "We're trying to keep Goblin as clean as possible."

"LIke breaking into Baxter Building is clean," Harry mumbled.

"It is if their motives are questioned," Norman said, handing the tablet back to one of the scientists. "If we're going after Spider-Man, we cannot bring anyone else into the situation."

"What if ... the hostage isn't a person," Harry said softly, before continuing, a little more confident. "What if we held the Baxter Building hostage? Lock the Fantastic Four inside and use it as a beacon for Spider-Man?"

Norman paused for a moment before turning to an aide. "Write that down. Look in our codes for something that could make that possible." Norman turned his attention back to Harry. "Take the evening off, we'll figure this out and pick it up later. Why don't you see if you can get Peter to talk about Spider-Man."

"Dad --"

"Try to," Norman said. "Don't have to persist. At least, ask."

Harry bit his lip. "Fine," he huffed. "But he's staying the night."

"Harry," Norman said sternly. He's been cautious about them staying the night together after Harry told him about his breathing spells.

"He's going to stay the night if I have to ask him about Spider-Man," Harry said, getting up from the table. "He's not dumb, dad. He's going to figure it out."

"Be smart, then," Norman replied. Harry wasn't sure if that was him ordering him to be careful about his words, or if that was a caring dad that popped through for a moment. 

"Yes, sir," Harry halfheartedly said as he went upstairs.

\-----

_H: Netflix and chill?_

_P: Is that you being romantic?_

_H: uh_

_H: Movies and makeout?_

_P: So romantic_

_P: Give me an hour or so_

_P: I got some photos I need to turn in._

Harry's breath hitched. This was his opportunity that his dad mentioned.

_H: Of Spider-Man?_

_P: Yeah, pretty clear too_

_P: I can show you later_

Spider-Man sat on the edge of a fire escape, phone in hand and camera in his lap, trying to catch his breath. He's spent most of his afternoon trying to round up the Rhino and it took nearly all of his energy out of him. It wasn't as easy as last time -- if he could call that easy. Luckily, Harry was safe and away from danger. He was actually surprised how clear his photos came out, especially with how fast the Rhino was running. He turned off his camera. He needed to rush to the Bugle before deadline -- and find somewhere to change. As much as he didn't want to be caught with his Spider-Man suit as his bottom layer, he also didn't want to change out in the December breeze.

\---------

The boys laid intertwined on the couch, for once, paying attention to the movie. Their empty take-out boxes sat on the floor beside Peter's camera. Harry glanced at the camera before picking it up and inspecting it. 

"When did you make the switch to digital?" He asked. He remembers the black and white photos Peter had sent him when he was in England. Photos of Aunt May and Uncle Ben, of Manhattan and Oscorp, and one of Peter that Uncle Ben took.

"Uh, three years ago," Peter thought out loud. "Yeah. It was a Christmas present from Aunt May and Uncle Ben. I think they were excited that I was doing Yearbook."

"Can I?" Harry gestured to turn it on. He wanted to see the photos Peter took.

"Yeah, of course."

Harry smiled and rolled off of Peter, tucking himself in between Peter and the couch for them both to look at the screen. The first photo was a clear photo of the Rhino caught in a web. Harry felt his heart stop. He remembers the fear he had at Coney Island when Rhino was running around, he couldn't imagine Peter trying to get photos with him running around.

"I didn't realize he was there," Harry said softly. 

"Yeah. It was a mess," Peter replied back, before realizing that it might stir up worry in Harry. "But I was in a safe location. I was on a fire escape."

Harry laughed. "Are those the best defense against him?"

"It seems like it."

The next photo had Spider-Man entangling the Rhino. Followed by Spider-Man swinging into frame. "Man," Harry whispered. When Peter said that the photos were clear, he wasn't joking. "You had a good spot."

"Yeah," Peter chuckled, a little nervously. "It seems like higher is better."

"How do you ... you know where to be?"

"Uh, mainly just out of the way," Peter said. "For most of the bad guys that are on the ground, I go up."

"No I mean, with him?" Harry said, gesturing to Spider-Man. "You seem to get great photos of him and know when he's active."

"O-oh," Peter said. He'd never thought that Harry would ask him this. He'd tried to be pretty careful about his locations. "Well, the ... police scanner mostly. You'll hear some ... weird activity and usually I go to that. Sometimes, the reporters at the Bugle shoot me a text when things start to happen."

"But it seems like this always happens in Manhattan," Harry said, as he changed to the next photo of Spider-Man. "That's a long trip from Queens."

"Y-yeah," Peter said softly. "I mean, I have days where I'm supposed to be there as the photographer and they send me places with the reporters." Which was true. He mainly spent his Tuesday afternoons at the Bugle and some weekend early afternoons. They went to a retirement home two weeks ago for a woman who turned 102.

"So, you don't know him?"

"What? No," Peter laughed awkwardly. "That would be weird. I mean, knowing a guy like that. Who knows if he's even a guy."

"He goes by Spider-Man," Harry laughed. "I'm assuming he identifies as male." Harry's heard his voice, too. But he wasn't going to admit that.

The next photo was clear and perfectly in frame. Spider-Man swung closer to the camera, may have only been 15 feet away from Peter. "Jameson's a fool if he doesn't use this one," Harry whispered. 

Peter laughed. "Jameson will only use it if he can spin it against Spider-Man."

"Are you going to take my senior photos?" Harry half-joked. "You wouldn't need to be on a fire escape for them."

"But that's where my best pictures come from," Peter laughed, pressing a kiss against Harry's cheek. "Maybe we can go to Central Park whenever there's snow flurries."

"Sounds like a date," Harry smiled. 

"Hey, I'll be right back," Peter said, squirming off of the couch. He kissed Harry once more before going to the bathroom. Harry smiled as he continued to go through Peter's photos -- until he came across a close-up of Spider-Man.

It wasn't like any other photo of Spider-Man he's seen so far.

Spider-Man was inches from the camera, slightly out of focus. It wasn't accidental -- he was looking straight toward the camera.

Harry skipped to the next photo. He was still close to the camera, this time clear as day. The mask pulled up partially, as Spider-Man teased the camera, sticking out his tongue. This wasn't Spider-Man messing with a photographer -- _he knew Peter_.

Why was Peter hiding it?

Harry studied the image a little more, suddenly feeling frustrated and angry. He couldn't figure out why. He turned off Peter's camera, setting it back on the floor. He took out his own phone to scroll through social media -- stopping at his lock screen. A photo of the two together, Harry had his tongue sticking out in a similar fashion.

Suddenly, Harry could pin-point his frustration **:** Jealousy.

Was Peter _seeing_ Spider-Man behind his back? Were they flirting with each other?

No.

Peter said he doesn't know Spider-Man, and Harry should take his word. 

But it's hard when the photographs show a different side. 

Harry sighed as he grabbed the empty takeout cartons and took them to the trash to throw away.

He didn't know what to do.

He's already pressed Spider-Man enough, he shouldn't ask anymore questions, but he was mad that Peter didn't mention that.

Didn't mention Spider-Man close ups.

Didn't mention Spider-Man revealing half of his face to Peter.

Maybe Peter didn't know who he was.

Maybe he kept the mask on.

Harry could feel his heartbeat rise.

He needed a moment to think -- or to stop thinking.

"Harry?"

Harry hesitated, standing in the kitchen. Peter came around the corner.

"I thought I lost you," Peter laughed, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. He waited for Harry to lean into him, but realized that something was wrong. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Why are you protecting him?"

"What?"

Harry moved Peter's arms from around his waist. "Why are you protecting Spider-Man?"

"Harry, I don't know him --"

"He sure knows you," Harry stepped away from Peter and back toward the den. "I've seen the pictures, Pete. He's smiling for the camera." He picked up Peter's camera and turned it on, going back to the photo of Spider-Man sticking his tongue out. He flipped the screen to Peter -- who froze in his steps. "W-why are you protecting him?"

"Harry --"

"Why?"

"Because he's trying to protect you," Peter said softly. "The night Rhino was in Coney Island, he ... told me that the Rhino was there to kidnap you. Hare, if ... Spider-Man can still do whatever he does, then you can be safe."

"Pete, I can take care of myself," Harry whispered. "Did ... Spider-Man save you that night?"

Peter bit his lip and nodded.

"Why ... why did you lie to me?"

"Harry --" Peter stepped closer to Harry, but Harry stepped back.

"Pete, you've talked to him. You said you don't know him --"

"Harry, I don't --"

"But you do," Harry whined. "He's comfortable around you. Only you have gotten this close of photos of him. He trusts you."

"Harry he knows I'm a photographer for the Bugle, he's just playing it up --"

"But the Bugle hates him, doesn't that seem counter productive?"

Peter hesitated. It did. Peter knew it was easy money if he took photos of himself and sold it to the Bugle, even if they were going to spin it. He never thought that's a reason why Spider-Man would hate for his photos to be taken.

Harry stepped forward, shoving Peter's camera in his hands.

"Maybe it's time for you to go home."

"Harry --"

"I need a break," Harry whispered. He stepped away from Peter and picked his phone up from the ground. "I-I think ... we need a break." Without looking back at Peter, Harry went straight to his room and shut the door. 

The world froze around Peter as he stared at the photo on his camera screen. He knew he should've deleted his test footage as soon as he took them. He should've done it while he was at the Bugle. He thought he did. And here it was, Spider-Man on his camera screen, mocking his broken heart. Peter knows what he should do. He should go and tell Harry that he's Spider-Man, but it wouldn't fix the lies he's told.

Maybe it was better this way.

Harry was sure to be safe now.

He was away from Peter, away from Spider-Man.

But Peter didn't think keeping Harry safe would hurt this much.

But it was better, right?

Harry's safe.

Peter knew one thing was certain **:** this was going to be a long Christmas break.


	26. 'That asshole.'

"How's the temperature?"

"It's good," Harry said. "I can't feel the cold at all. I feel fine."

"Good," Norman replied over the communications piece. "We don't need you to get frostbite."

"Right," Harry said. The snow was light, but the temperature was low. In a metal suit, it would be disastrous if the mechanics failed and nobody was able to retrieve Harry. Harry wore layers, just in case.

He kind of hated it. Today was a perfect day for anything but an Oscorp mission. A perfect day to for hot cocoa. A perfect day for a date in Central Park before warming up by a fire. Harry shook it off. He had to focus on his job.

Soon, the Baxter Building was in sight.

"You know what to do," Norman encouraged Harry to work fast.

"It's not like I haven't done this before," Harry said, as the Goblin took out the first generators. He felt better that he talked his dad out of putting the entire block in a black out. That's a lot of people without heat, even if most of them were businesses. 

Soon, the Baxter Building powered down.

Harry broke the lab window, causing a distraction before flying to the next floor **:** security.

They were going to take control of the building, keeping its occupants inside. All it took was a USB in a tower. Harry voiced a concern about all the USBs they were leaving at the Baxter Building, if it would trail back to Oscorp. Norman explained that they had it under control. That the IP addresses that they were using weren't located in New York City and they had security to keep Reed Richards from tracing their connection. "Plus, it's a little hard to point fingers at the Osborns when the USB has a different logo."

Harry flipped the USB around in his hand, revealing the Stark Industries logo in a metallic silver. He plugged the USB drive in the tower and bolted back out and to the top of the building, setting the final piece to complete the lock down. Soon, an electromagnetic force field gathered around the building, entrapping its inhabitants. The Goblin flew to the next building over, waiting on the roof. 

Five minutes passed.

"Harry, we might go to plan B," Norman warned.

"Give him another minute," Harry said. "It shouldn't be much longer --"

"I figured you were apart of this," a voice chirped up from behind him. The Goblin turned around to face Spider-Man, who stood proud and crossed armed as if he caught a child eating cookies before dinner. "Can't you leave the Fantastic Four alone?"

"Sure," The Goblin teased. "But you'd take their place." 

"If it can keep you off the streets of New York, that's fine with me," Spider-Man said, as he prepared for whatever the Goblin was going to throw at him.

"I haven't hurt any of New York's residents," The Goblin clarified. "Unlike the Fantastic Four. The Avengers. _You_."

"Those ... were never intentional," Spider-Man said. He knew what the Goblin meant. Sometimes, they got too careless. Sometimes, it was inevitable. They had to protect the city from something bigger, and it resulted in the city temporarily aching. "You know that."

"Do they?" The Goblin gestured to the city.

Peter hesitated. Did they?

Shivers went down his spine.

Wait. Spider-sense.

He took a stance, ready to aim at the Goblin when he felt a strong shock go up his leg.

"S-shit," he collapsed to his knees, unable to move. The Goblin knew he was coming and had prepared. He had the building wired, ready to shock Spider-Man as soon as he fell into his trap.

The Goblin grabbed Spider-Man and took the vial, pressing the needle into his leg to take a sample. "I figured you'd be smarter than this," The Goblin teased. He could feel Spider-Man struggling in his grip. Harry knew he didn't have much longer before Spider-Man was back up. Soon, his vial was filled. He removed the vial and tucking it away, safely. He shoved Spider-Man to the ground and started to walk away.

"Task done," Harry said in to the communication speaker, trying to keep his voice low so Spider-Man wouldn't hear him. He reached for his glider on his back, suddenly, it was out of his grip. 

He turned around to see Spider-Man standing up, glider in hand. "Lose something?"

The Goblin threw a shock orb toward Spider-Man, who batted it away with the glider.

("Careful!")

"Hey I gotta ask," Spider-Man said. "Do you use the same needles for everybody or fresh ones?"

"Does it matter?" The Goblin threw another orb. 

"Uh, yeah," Spider-Man ducked. "I have an on-and-off date. Wanna make sure I'm not spreading diseases to him."

Harry grew mad.

Did Spider-Man know who he was? Did he know that he's dating -- well, was dating Peter?

No.

He couldn't.

Maybe he did.

A web was shot toward him. The Goblin grabbed it, violently pulling it and Spider-Man toward him. He grabbed the glider, tossing it aside before punching Spider-Man in the stomach.

("Enough, Harry!")

Harry pressed a button on the side of his helmet, turning off his communication piece.

"Keep him out of it!" The Goblin pulled his fist back, bringing it down against Spider-Man's cheek. "He's better off without you." The Goblin threw Spider-Man on the ground. He looked at Spider-Man, gasping after the punch in the stomach, as he tried to stand up. Harry, filled with anger as he looked at the man who's pulled his boyfriend under his spell, knew he needed to leave. Even if Peter was seeing Spider-Man, he shouldn't do this. Peter liked him for a reason, he trusted him. Had faith in his motives. Harry needed to stop.

The Goblin picked up his glider, taking one final glance at Spider-Man. "He's got a future and all you're going to do is drag him into danger. Leave him out of it." He took off, turning the communication device back on.

" -- when you get home, you are so grounded!" Norman yelled.

"Understood," Harry mumbled.

\------

It's been more than twenty minutes.

And here, Peter sat, mask in hand as he thought about what the Goblin said.

_"He's got a future and all you're going to do is drag him into danger."_

Did ... did he know about Harry?

No.

Of course not.

He's watched himself. He's been careful about Spider-Man and Peter living separate lives, only to cross when it came to photographs in the Bugle. Gwen was the only one who knew.

But what if someone found out?

He wiped the dried blood from his nose. The Goblin knew how to pack a punch. Maybe he was right. He needed to leave Harry out of this. Here he was, on a rooftop with a guy he thought he could take -- but he got too cocky, he always did. And this time, it bit him back. What's going to happen when he gets too comfortable around Harry and he's the one taking the punches, not Spider-Man?

Maybe it was a good thing they were split up. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

But his heart ached. He wasn't sure if he could continue sitting in class with Harry as _just friends_. He wasn't sure if he could do anything with Harry as just friends, without wanting to crawl onto his lap or press soft kisses against his skin. His stomach twisted, just thinking about it. He was worried at the start of school that was what his year was going to be like, but it hurt worse knowing that he _had him_  and he _lost him_.

Peter picked himself off the ground, brushing the snow off his suit. He slipped his mask on and started to head home. He had enough action for today, the Avengers can take over from here.

\--------

Harry found out how much he could drink.

Harry found out _how to get drunk_ on the serum.

It only took two and a half bottles of Jameson swiped from the liquor cabinet before going to his room.

What could Norman do? Ground him?

With music blaring, he scrolled through his phone's camera roll. Stopping at every picture of Peter.

He told himself when he started that he'd clear out some of the photos, but he stopped after the first coffee photo. The coffee was easy to delete, it was the boy that followed as he held his coffee close to his face, basking in the warmth, that was hard to delete. He told himself, that he'd keep that image and went to the next to delete. But every picture of Peter, he told himself he'd wait.

He felt hurt.

Jealous.

Peter lied about knowing Spider-Man. There had to be something more.

Spider-Man bragged to him that he had an "on-and-off" date. That was Peter ... right?

Harry took another shot of Jameson as he focused on the music.

His spotify playlist kept changing between sad and angry songs. It's like it wanted him to be frustrated.

He exited out of the photo app and hovered over Peter's contact information. He sighed. He didn't need to call him. He needed to wait.

But he could text him.

He opened up their conversation, seeing the last texts he received from Peter.

Thursday 16:57

_P: I can show you later_

Thursday 21:44

_P: I'm sorry._

Friday 10:14

_P: Hey._

Saturday 14:23

_P: I'm sorry._

Sunday 15:03

_P: Harry, I'm sorry._

Monday 8:12

_P: I'm so sorry._

Some part of Harry told him exactly what he needed to do. Put away his phone and drink water. But he wasn't sure if it was the Wrecks playing in the background or the Jameson running through his blood, but he did exactly the opposite.

Tuesday 23:55

_H: yo u thiink i m al one ????,??_

_H: I got preTty girlss s taking me hom_

_H: e_

That will show him.

Make him think that, Harry's not jealous and that he's moved on. That he's got girls ready to take him home. Girls that won't --

_P: I miss you._

Harry's heart stopped. He was missed. 

_P: Are you drunk?_

_H: vEr y_

_P: Are you home?_

_H: yeaaaaa hH_

_P: Drink water._

_H: iM Mad d_

_H: fRUSt rated_

_H: jeal ouzs_

_H: mii am i anacorra?,_

Harry waited for a response. He knew Peter didn't love him anymore. He loved Spider-Man. Or whoever was Spider-Man. He threw his phone across the room and slid under his comforter. Maybe he could talk his dad into transferring him to one of the private schools. But he fought so hard to attend Midtown, he'd hate to throw it away. He loved being there, he loved the classes he took with Peter. He loved spending time with Peter, even if they weren't going to be together. Harry closed his eyes. Maybe Peter wasn't his sunshine.

_Bzzz_

Harry jolted out of bed, or tried to. His drunk ass tangled within the sheets, falling to the ground as soon as he slipped out of the bed. He reached for his phone, the light nearly blinding his eyes. He grinned as he saw Peter's message.

_P: Certamente._

Harry smiled as he closed his eyes, holding his phone tight.

He was going to regret testing his limits in the morning.

\-------

Harry stood outside of the Parker house. Hesitating.

He knew he should've called.

He should've talked to Peter other than drunk texting him at midnight.

But here he was, standing on his porch as it lightly snowed.

It took an hour to get here, he might as well ring the doorbell... right?

He sighed as pressed the button. He could hear it ringing throughout the house.

Soon, Aunt May was at the door.

"Oh! Hi Harry," She said, opening the door. "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

"O-oh, yeah," he said, a little nervous. Aunt May had to know something was up. "I -- uh -- is Peter home?"

"No, he's not. You just missed him. He had to run to the Bugle for a few assignments. He said he thought he'd be gone all day."

"Oh, okay," Harry looked at the gift in his hand. He extended it toward Aunt May. "Will you get this to him?"

"Of course," She said, taking silver paper-wrapped box. "I'll let you know he stopped by."

"Thanks May," Harry walked to his car, waving goodbye. May watched Harry start his car and drive away before turning to the kitchen, where a tall, lanky boy stood awkwardly with a bag of frozen peas on his face.

"You should really talk to him," May whispered, handing the gift to Peter. "He seems like he misses you."

Peter stared at the box. "What's this?"

"He brought it for you," she said, reaching for the peas on his face, moving it away revealing the bruise on his cheekbone. "It does look better. The swelling has gone down quite a bit since yesterday."

"It still hurts," Peter said, putting the peas back on his cheek. "The guy got me good. I'm surprised he didn't take my camera, too."

"You being safe is way more important than twenty-five dollars or your camera," May asserted. "We could have replaced your camera. We can't replace you." 

Peter smiled. 

"Plus, without you, who's going to defrost my vegetables?"

"Funny."

"I'm going to go check on the laundry," May said, walking away from Peter. "You should really consider talking to Harry."

"I'll think about it," Peter said softly, looking at the present in his hand. He set the peas on the counter, freeing his hands to pull the wrapping paper off.

Peter stopped as soon as he saw the brand.

"That asshole," Peter muttered under his breath as he ripped the paper away from the box. He couldn't believe that Harry had bought him a new camera lens, let alone an expensive telephoto lens. He knew he to expect Harry's gift to be slightly expensive, but he didn't think he was worth a $2,000 gift. Peter put the bag of peas back on his face, sliding down the fridge to sit on the floor.

He couldn't believe Harry would still give this to him, even after they broke up -- On break. He's not sure if that was the same thing.

A blue envelope stuck to the top of the box. Peter picked it off, opening it, pulling out the small card.

_Please stay safe._

_x H_


	27. 'I love Peter, too.'

Peter laid in his bed, a damp washcloth pressed against his cheek. He's been beat up before, plenty of times. By the Rhino, Vulture, Kraven the Hunter, the Lizard, ... Flash Thompson.

But the way the Goblin punched him felt ... personal. He was mad when Peter mentioned Harry -- well, sort of. 'On-and-off' is what Peter referred to him as. He didn't want to call him his boyfriend if they were on break -- but that's who he was to him **:** his boyfriend. Peter hoped they could sort this out, but if Harry was mad about Peter lying, he's going to be furious.

Maybe the Goblin was homophobic? Mad that Spider-Man talked about a boyfriend. 

_"He's got a future and all you're going to do is drag him into danger. Leave him out of it."_

No.

The Goblin had to know who Spider-Man was. He had to know that he was dating Harry. Unless Goblin had a heart of gold for everybody's significant other, caring for their well-being, the Goblin had to know his secret.

He tried to think of anyone that would know about their relationship **:** and that was everyone.

After they officially started to date, they really didn't hide their relationship. And they definitely didn't hide it the past few weeks at school. Peter and Harry were constantly touching whether it was hand holding under the table or sly, quick kisses between classes. They went to homecoming together. They slow danced. They kissed. _Everyone had to know._ They weren't keeping it a secret.

He tried to think of anyone that would be mad about them dating, or concerned for Harry's future.

Mr. Greenwich surely was annoyed. They hardly paid attention in class, but his class was hard to pay attention to at 8 in the morning.

Mrs. Phillips sure had it out for them -- well, she knew they couldn't be grouped together or else they weren't going to get much work done. But the voice was masculine from what Peter could tell. It seems the suit alters his voice, enough that Peter feels like he knows it, but can't pin point it.

He flipped the wash rag over, searching for comfort.

He hoped that his cheekbone wasn't fractured.

He closed his eyes as he heard his phone buzz.

He reached over and looked at notification.

_H: Mii maa nchi._

Peter rolled his eyes. He knew that was supposed to be Italian, but apparently a drunk Harry didn't know how to properly form words.

Peter opened up his translator app and typed in the phrase. Luckily, the app was able to guess what Harry really meant. ' _Mi manchi_ ' or 'I miss you' in English. Peter smiled. He looked over at the camera lens Harry had bought him for Christmas. It sat on his dresser, next to the presents he had bought for Harry -- both a fraction of the cost the lens. He knew that Harry wouldn't have cared about the price, but they felt insignificant compared to Harry's gift.

Peter thought about what the Goblin had told him.

_"He's better off without you."_

Peter hesitated to text back.

Maybe that was true.

Harry was safer without Peter. Without villains chasing him.

But he thought to the Rhino on Coney Island, who knows nothing about Peter Parker but willingly told Spider-Man that Harry was worth something because of his name -- not because of his connection to Peter.

He thought of Harry drinking _alone_. He didn't know how much Harry was drinking, but Harry had a strong tolerance. He'd always sobered up before Peter did -- way before Peter did. Maybe Harry needed him.

Peter skipped texting Harry and went straight for calling him.

It barely rang before Harry answered.

"Ohmy --" _thud_. "God, I thought that -- that you hated me. OhmygOD. Hey. Hi."

Harry was piss drunk.

"I don't hate you," Peter said calmly. "Just the opposite."

Harry paused for a moment before smiling. "Aw. I opposite you, too."

"What was that thud?"

"I fell."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"I'm super -- sober," Harry corrected himself. Peter waited. "Two -- Three bottles."

"Harry --"

"Don't lecture me dad," Harry teased.

"That's a lot," Peter said.

"It takes--s a lot," Harry explained. Peter waited for more, but Harry bit his tongue. Even drunk, he knew he couldn't tell Peter about the serum.

"Hey, I got your present today," Peter said softly. "I love it."

Harry grinned. "Good! I was afraid that you'd be mad."

"About?"

"How much I spent."

"I mean, a little," Peter said. "We had a limit."

"What if I got it on sale?"

"You didn't," Peter laughed. "If it makes you feel better, I broke the other rule we had."

Harry dramatically gasped. Peter couldn't tell if he was doing that for show or if he forgot how to gasp normally.

"I got you two presents."

"Peter," Harry sighed. "I don't ne --" he hiccuped. "Need two press ... presents."

"Yeah but I wanted to give you two."

"Y'know what I REALLY need?"

"What's that?"

"You," Harry said, as he lied on the floor. "I miss you, Pete. I'm soooooo, soo sorry i'm a fuckass."

"You're a what?"

"Fuckass," Harry clarified. He paused for a moment before trying to correct himself. "A fucking ass. Wait. Hole. Asshole. I'm sorry, Peter."

"Harold Theopolis Osborn," Peter interrupted. "I love you, drunk fuckass and all."

Harry smiled. "You love my drunk fuckass?" He said his words as if this was the first time Peter said he loved him.

"Of course," Peter laughed. 

"Can we get back together?"

"Yes please," Peter said without skipping a beat. They were only broken up for a week and they could hardly get their minds off each other. What would they do if they went to out of state colleges? "When can I see you?"

"Now," Harry said, scuffling. "I'll be over --"

"NO," Peter shouted. "You're not going anywhere. If we're doing anything, I'm heading over."

"Nonono," Harry whispered. "I'm -- uh -- grounded."

"Grounded?" Peter laughed. "You were at my house today."

"On an errand," Harry explained. "I had a meeting with a wall -- wall street. I may have detoured."

"Why are you grounded?"

"Noooor-man said that I have to be more considerate about the future," Harry said sarcastically. "That I can't be living on the edge -- _ALL_ the time."

"He's probably right Hare," Peter said softly, thinking back to the Goblin. ' _He's got a future and all you're going to do is drag him into danger ...'_ Could the Goblin be ... No. It couldn't be Norman."Hare, I gotta go. If you remember we talked, call me tomorrow?"

"I'll probably remember dick-shit."

"Dipshit," Peter corrected.

"Rude."

Peter laughed. "I love you."

"I love Peter, too," Harry mumbled into the phone before sighing loudly. "I love Peter so much."

Once the line clicked, Peter sat up in his bed, removing the damp rag from his face. Was he the Goblin? Why would Norman Osborn need to break into the Baxter Building ... releasing other scientists' plans to demonize them. Peter looked at the rag in his hand. Why would Norman want blood samples? Why did Norman think that Peter wasn't good for Harry? Peter sighed. Norman knew this entire time and he's been pretending to care for Peter. He had to show Norman that he's good, that he won't ruin Harry's future.

\--------

Peter stood outside of the Oscorp. Hesitating.

He knew he should've called.

He knew he should've texted.

Maybe ask if Harry remembered last night.

Probably not. Harry didn't call.

Peter sighed, adjusted his backpack and went inside. He said hello to the front desk before going to straight to the elevator, hitting the penthouse button. Halfway up, he started to panic. What if Harry wasn't home? What if it was only Norman and he had to sit awkwardly in the den, with Norman working away with plans for the Goblin? Would he attack him there? Or would he only attack Peter if he was in the suit?

He sent a quick text to Harry.

_P: Are you home?_

Peter held his phone tightly in his hand as he waited for Harry to reply.

Soon, the elevator door opened to the small hallway before the penthouse. He took a glance at the text message, waiting for the text-in-progress dots to come up. The elevator door started to shut on Peter. He stuck his hand out, stopping it and sighing. He had to leave the elevator.

It took less than five steps for Peter to be at Harry's door. He hesitated ... but followed through.

_Knock knock knock_

Maybe this was a bad idea.

He took a step back to the elevator before he heard the door start to open. He froze in his steps.

"Peter?"

Oh thank God.

"Hey Harry," Peter said, swinging his bookbag off his shoulder, digging inside. "I don't know if you remember us talking last night, but I thought I'd swing by and bring these to you --" He pulled out Harry's presents, extending them to Harry.

Harry stood in the doorway, staring at Peter.

"You don't remember our conversation last night, do you?" Peter asked, prepared to make-up again. He wanted them to work out so much.

"What the fuck happened?" Harry whispered.

"I called you and you were --" He stopped when he felt Harry's fingers gently touch his still swollen cheek. He suddenly realized that last night's conversation is not what Harry was talking about.

"You were supposed to be safe," Harry said softly.

"I'm okay," Peter whispered, taking Harry's hand off his cheek and into his own hand. "I -- I got mugged on my way home from the Bugle. They only took my money and a little pride." He chuckled.

"That's still not okay," Harry pulled Peter into a hug, tucking his head under Peter's chin. Peter pulled his arms from between his body and Harry's, wrapping them around his waist.

Peter was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be out of danger once the Goblin dealt with Spider-Man. Harry hoped that Peter wasn't lying and that his bruise was at fault of Spider-Man. He lifted his head from Peter's chin to look at the purple bruise.

"Did you get it checked out?"

"Aunt May looked at it," Peter assured. "She said it should be fine."

"Come inside," Harry said, pulling away from Peter and gestured for Peter to enter. Peter handed Harry's gifts in his hand as he walked passed Harry, stopping not much farther inside. "So, you did break the other rule?"

"You remember?" Peter laughed.

"Kind of," Harry said, as he moved both presents to one hand and grabbed Peter with the other, leading him to the den. "I mean, I thought it was a dream. I mean, I woke up on my floor and you didn't text me back, so I figured you hated me."

"Never," Peter smiled. "Do we -- Harry, can we get back together? Officially?"

Harry stopped in his place. He loved Peter. He loved spending his time with Peter. He didn't want to fight Spider-Man for Peter -- but he will. He'd punch him again. Harry was willing to beat the shit out of Spider-Man, for Peter. Harry turned around and softly nodded. "I want nothing more," he whispered, pulling Peter in for a hug. He gently laid his head against Peter's chest. "I just want you safe, and I know that's impossible to keep. There's trouble everywhere, it's just not when you're taking photos for the Bugle." Harry softly sighed. It's much more than just the Bugle and Spider-Man. "Pete, I will fully support you if you join the police force."

"What?" Peter was taken back. He was trying to figure out where Harry would get that idea -- until he remembers Thanksgiving. "OH, yeah. Thank you," and he meant it. It's a step closer to telling him that he was Spider-Man ... it's just not the time, especially if Norman might be the Goblin. "I put that on the back burner. I'm still hoping for college."

"You'll get in," Harry assured Peter. "I promise you."

"It's not just getting in, Hare," Peter said softly. It was the money. Expenses rack up pretty quickly, and there's only so much that scholarships could cover. While he applied for Columbia and Empire State University, unless he got a full-ride, he had plans to attend a junior college first. 

Suddenly, Harry remembered money's a problem for Peter. He always knew that Peter didn't have the same background as him, that Peter, Aunt May and Uncle Ben always had to work to help make ends meet. Harry hated when Peter spent his money on him. Peter worked hard for his money and he shouldn't waste it on Harry. But, for some reason, it never occurred to Harry that Peter may not attend college because he couldn't _pay for it_. 

"Pete, you realize that you're one of Midtown's best," Harry lifted his head off of Peter's chest and smiled at him. "And you're going for science education -- biology _and_ chemistry focus. Who wouldn't want to take you?" 

"You should open your presents," Peter suggested, trying to change the subject. "I mean, I came all this way to get you to open them."

"I can't believe you broke our rule," Harry pressed a soft kiss against Peter's jaw before pulling away. He set one present down while he opened the other. The first was a book -- a collection of poems -- "Kaddish and Other Poems" by Allen Ginsberg, a little worn with love from Peter's collection, and two bags of locally roasted coffee beans, Native Roasters, straight from Queens. "Should be I concern what 'Kevin' is supposed to taste like?"

"Like you've flown out of Chicago and now lost in New York," Peter said, leaning against Harry. "It's their holiday blend. Did you see this one has notes of lime candy?"

"What?" He glanced at it. "Do you want a cup of coffee? I could go for one."

"I'm up for caffeine all the time," Peter laughed. "That's why I date you. To make me coffee."

"Alright, I'll take that," Harry laughed. He wrapped his arms around Peter's waist. "Thank you so much for the gifts. I love them."

"And thank you for mine," Peter leaned in to kiss Harry.

"I can't believe you broke the rule."

"You did first."

"Then I'd say we're even," Harry smirked. "C'mon, let's go make some lime candy coffee."

"We're definitely not even."


	28. 'It's what fathers do.'

It didn't take long for the boys to fall back into place.

Arms wrapped around each other as they waited for the coffee to brew. Peter's head laid gently on Harry's shoulder as Harry hummed quietly. 

After they made coffee (which was surprisingly good), they decided it was warm enough for a stroll in the park. It was nice having Central Park in Harry's backyard. 

"Aren't you still grounded?" Peter asked quietly before they left, not quite sure where Norman was.

"Technically," Harry smirked as he slipped on his wool coat. "What's he going to do? He can't ground me more."

"He _could_ ground you from me," Peter said sheepishly as he awkwardly adjusted his backpack. He thought about his theory of Norman as the Goblin, chewing him out for ruining Harry's life. "Plus, I'm not sure if he really likes me."

"What?" Harry scoffed, as he reached into his pockets checking for gloves. "What are you talking about? Of course he does." He slipped the leather gloves on and grabbed Peter's hand, pulling him out the door and toward the elevator. "I'm sure he even likes you more than me."

"Harry," Peter scorned. They both knew that Norman loved Harry, he just had a hard way of expressing it. But then again, did Harry know that Norman did like him? "He does cares."

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Harry wrapped his arms around Peter's waist, changing the subject. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too," Peter whispered before pressing a kiss against Harry's lips.

Harry kissed back, leading Peter back against the wall of the elevator. He slipped his hand underneath Peter's shirt, only to remember he was wearing gloves. He deepened the kiss. They had plenty of time before they got to the ground level **:** over sixty floors to go. 

What Harry really wanted to do was drop to his knees for Peter -- letting the suspense of the elevator doors to open at any floor bring both of them to the edge. But Harry knew he shouldn't -- that he can't. That his dad might be on the opposite side of the elevator doors and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Instead, he pushed himself closer to Peter. He moved his kisses from Peter's lips down his neck, fighting Peter's coat for skin. Peter moaned as Harry softly nipped at his skin.

_ding_

Both boys froze, turning their attention to the door opening. A sheepish intern stood in front of the elevator awkwardly. He had to be older than them, as Oscorp normally only takes college students in their sophomore years, at least, or seniors from Midtown Science High School. And neither of the boys recognized him.

"Uh -- I'll just take the next elevator," the intern said, stepping away.

"Thanks."

"Appreciate it."

Both boys quickly reached for the close door button before busting out laughing. Guess it was better than Norman.

Their stroll through the park was brisk, but Peter mainly wanted to take pictures of Harry with the snow flurries. He wanted to try out his new lens, and what better way than to use his boyfriend? The park was a perfect opportunity -- so many tourists take photos as it is, so who'd look at them any different? Except for the fact that Peter was using a telephoto lens, standing at least 25 feet away from Harry for a portrait while others were using similar lenses for landscape photos.

"You kind of look ridiculous," Harry laughed.

"Trust me," Peter said as he took a quick photo. He glanced at the image as it popped on the screen. He took a few steps back. "I'm a professional."

"Alright."

"Plus, you're the one who bought me it," Peter smirked. "You can't complain if I look ridiculous."

Harry smirked as he faintly heard the shutter close. 

"Look up." Harry followed Peter's orders. He shoved his hands into his jacket pocket, standing wide, letting the snowflakes fall against his face. He glanced back at Peter, smiling. Even with the bruise barely peeking out from behind Peter's camera, Harry felt content about Peter's safety. He knew that if Peter was going to chase trouble, he'd could at least stand further back from it. Harry only half-knew anything about photography. He had to hunt down a few professionals to ask him about the best lens for Peter within a reasonable (read **:** Peter won't completely kill him) price range. But if he figured that he had to stand this far back for a regular portrait, it had to be perfect for taking safe, distance photos. "Stop staring at me, you're going to have some creepy ass profile photos."

Harry laughed, turning away from Peter, glancing at Oscorp in the distance. His grin faded back into a soft smile as he looked toward Oscorp -- his home, his future. Sometimes, it felt surreal that he was to follow his father's footsteps.

When he was younger, he didn't want to. He wanted to act, like his mom, but he fell out of it after she passed. He still loved theatre, but found himself struggling on stage. He had public speaking down, it was the public acting that gave him stage fright.

When he was in junior high, he hated the idea of being in the same profession as the man who sent him away from the city he loved. He wanted to do nothing with it.

By the time he started high school, he accepted the fact that it was what he was going to do, whether he wanted to or not. It was by this time that science started to make sense to him, that when it came to naming the elements, they almost felt second nature.

By his junior year, he knew that the Californian boarding school isn't where he was supposed to be. Sure it had science courses, but they were general studies -- not in depth. He needed a science focus, not business. Granted, he now knew how not to drive the company in the ground. It was practically ingrained in his brain after the past five years.

It took all his courage (and help from a few persuasion and public relations classes) to talk to his father and persuade him into attending Midtown Science. He knew his education wasn't going to be as strong as it could've been if he attended all four years, but it was better than the classes he took in California. At first, his father suggested other boarding schools, that focused in science that weren't public schools, but Harry persisted. Harry missed the city. He missed spending his entire year at Oscorp. His missed Peter. He missed his father -- the man that used to hold him when he cried, the man that used to let him color in his office, the man ... that he started to see return this year.

"Hey," Peter said, approaching Harry, lost in thought. "You alright?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry said, reaching out for Peter. "Just thinking how beautiful the city is." He took Peter's hand, pulling him in and wrapping his arms around his waist. "How beautiful you are."

Peter smiled, as he laid his forehead against Harry's, realizing how cold Harry's skin. Suddenly, Peter realized how dumb he was **:**  It was cold out, snow piles on the ground from previous snowfall, and here Peter was, taking pictures of his sick boyfriend as snow fell on his face. "You're cold. Let's go back inside."

"Just a few more minutes, mom," Harry laughed. "I'm enjoying the weather."

Peter hesitated. "Is this ... not going to be bad on your muscles?"

Harry thought quietly. "Probably."

"Then we're going," Peter said, grabbing Harry's hand and tugged on his hand to take him back to Oscorp. Harry stayed planted.

"I'll be fine," Harry assured, trying to pull Peter back to him. Peter sighed as he came back to Harry ... only to pick him up and start to carry him back to Oscorp. Harry shrieked, as he didn't expect to be thrown over Peter's shoulder. "Holy shit -- !" Harry started to wiggle, trying to pull himself off of Peter before they both fell. Peter had muscle, much more muscle than Harry remembers him having, but sooner or later, they're going to fall if Peter doesn't set him down. "Peter -- ! Let me down before you drop me!"

"I won't drop you --" Peter suddenly realizes that he's not supposed to be strong, well, this strong. He doesn't have time to work out, he has no excuse for why he could dead lift and carry 140 pounds of Harry. He started to purposefully shake. "I -- I got you."

"Peter!"

"N-no it's fine," Peter said, trying to pretend that he's about to drop Harry. Maybe he's harassed Harry enough. Peter started to help Harry off his shoulders -- unknown that he had stopped on ice and slipped backward into a snowpile, pulling Harry on top of him. 

"Peter!" Harry laughed, smacking his chest playfully. "I told you."

"There was ice!" Peter laughed. "I would've been able to carry you home."

"Whatever," Harry laughed as he pulled himself off of Peter and helped Peter up. "Come on, let's go jump in the shower."

"Y-yeah," Peter said, feeling his face flush up a little. He took Harry's arm, cautious of the ice. "I would love that."

Except, Norman wouldn't.

As soon as they stepped into Oscorp's lobby, they knew they were in trouble. Norman was waiting for the boys to return, cross-armed at the front desk.

"Hey Pops," Harry smiled, knowing he was supposed to be getting ready for a Goblin test run. But Peter's arrival threw his heart into flips. He couldn't just turn Peter away. "How's it --"

"I thought it was established that you were grounded," Norman told, not asked. Norman glanced at Peter, acknowledging his existence before turning his attention back to Harry. "It seems like listening has been a real problem for you lately."

"I'm not five, dad," Harry retorted, crossing his arms. Peter stood awkwardly, trying not to get involved. Norman noticed him, had to notice the giant bruise across his cheek, and without an expression of emotion went back to Harry. If Norman _was_ the Goblin, he wouldn't have been shocked to the bruise on Peter's cheek ... but he might have been impressed the mark he left.

"I know you're not," Norman scorned. "Which is why I expect better from you. Peter --" He turned his attention fully to Peter, keeping his tone the same. "It's time for you to go." Peter hesitated, waiting for his Spidey-sense.

"Oh -- okay," Peter said, realizing Norman wasn't going to attack him. He turned to leave, looking back at Harry about to say goodbye -- until Harry grabbed his arm.

Harry looked at Norman before turning his attention back to Peter, taking a few steps away from his dad. "I'll text you later, _if_ I have my phone." He pressed a soft kiss against Peter's cheek.

"Okay," Peter nodded, softly smiling. "Hey wait, we're doing dinner Thursday after Aunt May gets off work if you want to join."

"Yeah definitely," Harry smiled back. "I'll bring cookies or something festive --"

"Oh no," Peter laughed. "It's a May-Christmas, you don't need to bring --"

"Harry," Norman warned.

"I'll catch you later," Peter said, softly pecking Harry's lips before dashing out the door. He knew if he was going to earn Norman's trust, he needed to respect his authority ... but it's also kind of hard to when Peter knows that the Goblin was out for Spider-Man's blood, literally.

As soon as Peter was out the door, Norman grabbed Harry's arm, leading him to the elevator.

"You know better," He scorned. "We talked about how the temperature is going to --"

"I figured it was fine," Harry interrupted. "We were only going for a small walk in the park. We were on our way back. I was fine when we did --"

"The suit has insulators," Norman lowered his voice as they entered the elevator. "It offers more protection than your wool coat and jeans would." Harry rolled his eyes. "You need to take this serious, Harry. This is your health."

"I'm fine --"

Norman grabbed Harry's wrist, activating his monitor.

115/72, 61 bpm, 97.2F, 92.3%

"Hypothermia can start at 95 degrees, Harry," Norman said, letting go of Harry's wrist. Norman sighed. "I'm not trying to be mean, Harry."

"You're not trying hard enough."

"I'm being stern," Norman said. "It's what fathers do."

"Really?" Harry chortled. "Because I haven't met mine."


	29. 'It ... doesn't feel right.'

Norman always tried to do the best for his son, and Emily always helped push him in the right direction.

Norman wanted to send him to an enriching preschool right away, ensuring him a better education. Emily told him that it would've been excessive, and that she could offer him "an enriching learning experience" at home. "Just because the school is there doesn't mean he has to go," Emily told Norman. "He can wait until prekindergarten." Norman agreed, but talked Emily into letting Harry start preschool a little earlier, going two days a week. "To establish a pattern and an interest." 

Norman sent Harry to the best private, college-prep elementary school New York City had to offer. He originally wanted to send Harry to a science- or a business-focused elementary school, but Emily warned him if he did that, Harry might shy away from the family business if he doesn't have a choice in what he wants to learn. Norman agreed, finding a well-balanced school, focusing both in the humanities and sciences. Emily was impressed with their language courses and helped Harry along the way with his Italian. 

Norman built up Oscorp for Harry, for Emily, for his family. He wanted to make them proud. He wanted Harry to have a legacy, a future.

When the Osborns discovered that Poppa Lyman's illness was genetic, Norman worked hard to find a cure, find a way to stop their muscles from degenerating. He needed to save Emily, to keep Harry healthy. Norman continued his work after Emily passed. He worked harder.

By the time Harry was ready for junior high, Norman searched for the best private school for him, a business-driven education that would help Harry focus. It almost seemed like his current school drained him of his energy. His grades were fine, they were great. But his teachers mentioned that his lack of effort in class and missing homework was a problem. They often thought he was cheating as he continued to do well on tests. "An Osborn wouldn't cheat," Norman would always assure.

Soon, Norman made the connection.

He realized Harry had stopped participating in theater, stopped with arts all together -- with the exception of language courses. Norman searched for the best private school that offered a well-rated theater program. When he found it, it hurt him. If this is where he wanted his son to attend school, he'd be sending him across the Atlantic Ocean. For months, Harry would be in England away from Oscorp, away from New York City ... away from Norman.

Norman's not sure if Harry could be away from New York for that long -- if he's could be away from _him_ for that long. After Nonna Lyman moved back to Italy, he'd go and visit for two weeks in June, but he would always come back, excited to see the city. Would he be alright if he sent him away for longer?

Norman sighed. Harry's grown up. He's not a little boy anymore. And Norman needs to realize that. Harry can handle whatever life throws at him.

Norman sent Harry's application, enrolling him in several economics courses and a theater course for every semester. Norman wanted it to be a surprise.

The night before Harry went off to England, Norman wanted them to have dinner together to commemorate the last day of summer. He noticed Harry pushing his roasted zucchini and carrots around his plate.

"Harry," Norman said. "You need to eat your vegetables."

"Dad, I think I'm gay."

Norman tried to remember anything Emily might have said that would help Norman keep the situation under control, that everything was fine. He needed to show Harry that nothing was going to change if he was gay.

"Doesn't matter," He replied. "You need to eat your vegetables."

Harry softly nodded as he stabbed a sliced carrot with his fork and ate it.

Norman internally sighed. _Situation diffused_. 

It didn't matter to him if Harry was gay. He was still his son and he'd love him either way. New York state had legalized marriage the year before, and New York City has always been more liberal than the rest of the country.

Norman started to question whether he should actually send Harry to London for school. He might be more accepted in the U.S. than in the U.K.

No.

Norman was sticking to his plan, it was too far along to change course.

He knew if Harry had a problem, he would tell him.

Harry's always told him.

... Right?

Harry didn't come back for fall break. He had a week off, plenty of time to enjoy New York City, but he refused. He stayed in England.

Norman brushed it off. Maybe Harry was waiting for Thanksgiving to come home. Wanted to get a head start on homework before he came home in a few weeks.

Thanksgiving came and gone, and Harry stayed in England.

Norman started to worry, maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he didn't do the right thing. Emily wasn't here to correct him.

But Harry came home for Christmas. Norman was relieved. They could go back to normal. But Harry felt distant. Norman couldn't tell if this was a teenage thing or if he made a mistake.

Norman decided that they were going to have a Christmas dinner -- for the first time since Emily passed.

He made sure to take the day off. He normally was the only one who'd work on Christmas day after he gave Harry his presents to open. But this time was going to be different. He cooked a ham. He made green bean casserole. He even bought sparkling cider for Harry and him to share. And for half a day, everything felt normal. He remembers seeing Harry smile for the first time that break ... maybe even since the beginning of summer. Norman told himself that this was going to be a tradition -- an Osborn tradition.

It wasn't until the next Christmas that Harry opened up to Norman.

"I hate England," He said as scooped mashed sweet potatoes onto his plate.

"What?"

Harry stayed silent, pushing the mashed potatoes across the table to Norman before reaching for a slice of ham.

"Do you not like your school?" Norman pushed. Harry softly shook his head no. "What don't you like?"

"It ... doesn't feel right," Harry said, shifting his weight in his chair.

Norman was disappointed. Not in Harry, but himself. He tried to find the best school for Harry and failed him without Emily's guidance. 

"We'll find another," Norman said, as he started to cut into his ham slice. "Finish this year, and we will find a better school."

"In the U.S.?" Harry suggested.

"In the U.S.," Norman replied, making a mental note. Harry smiled as he took a bite of his food. Maybe everything was going to be alright between him and his dad.

Harry didn't realize until August that he should've specified New York -- even the east coast -- before he was shipped to California.

His new school focused strongly on economics. Many of his classmates were planning to major in finance in college. Dakota, his boyfriend during sophomore year, wanted to be a business analyst and wanted to work on Wall Street. Harry was ... still indecisive about his major.

All his life, he went to schools that focused in college prep, and he still hasn't figured out what he was going to college for. He knew where he was going to end up after he received his masters in ... whatever. He was going to work at Oscorp, serve on a few boards within the company and work his way to an executive position. Harry would figure it out along the way.

And he did.

Norman knew that Harry had plans to eat dinner at Peter's. It kind of hurt, knowing that he wasn't going to spend Christmas with him this year, but Norman knew that Harry was going to outgrow the tradition, and the past few years it almost felt like he already did. He almost detested, until he could hear Emily in the back of his head **:** _"If you don't let him go, he's going to resent you. You know how he feels about Peter. Norman, he might not that much time ... "_

And Norman knew she was right. He was going to give Harry his presents, then head back to the lab. He couldn't let this be Harry's last Christmas -- It wasn't going to be. Norman was going to make sure of that.

He set the presents out in the den, putting the flat-silver wrapped envelope on top. 

"Harry, I'm heading down to the lab," He called out. "Drive safely, the roads in Queens might still be slick."

"Will do," Harry said, as he came out of his bedroom, fastening the buttons on his sleeves. "I'll probably end up staying the night."

"Alright," Norman said slowly. It bothered him that Peter and Harry had sleepovers, especially since he wouldn't allow that if Harry was dating a girl. But, he knew he could trust the boys ... he knew he could trust Peter. "Please practice safe --"

"Ew no, dad," Harry's face grew red. "It's Christmas. We're not going to do ... _that_." He stopped short of mentioning it was mainly because May was going to be home. And there was no way they could be sneaky about that.

"That's great to hear," Norman said, as he started toward the front of their home. "Presents are out if you want to open them before you go."

"Actually, I'm running late," Harry said as he fixed his tie. He knew he probably didn't have to dress up for dinner, but Peter would enjoy it. "I'll open them tomorrow. We can have brunch to celebrate -- like tradition." Norman smiled.

"You should at least open the silver one," He said pointing. "Had to pull some strings to get that early."

Harry stopped getting ready as the glanced at the present.

Norman nodded before leaving. "Tomorrow, then."

Harry grabbed his blazer and keys. He walked by the pile of presents, knowing most of them would probably be clothes, and picked up the thin silver present.

He slowly pulled off the wrapping paper, unveiling the cardstock envelope. Harry stopped, suddenly realizing what it was. Harry flipped the envelope over, noticing the familiar blue on return address. He quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the papers. He held his breath as he skimmed through the letter.

 

> _Dear Mr. Harry Osborn,_
> 
> _On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure to offer you admission to the class of 2021 at Columbia University. You stood out as one of the most talented and promising students in one of the most competitive applicant pools --_

Harry stopped reading. He didn't need to read anymore.

He was accepted into Columbia.

He was going to be a biomedical engineer.

_He was going to stay in New York City._


	30. 'Now. Tell me your secret.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello, I saw Homecoming tonight and I was going to wait until Saturday to post this but have a chapter in celebration.

Some of Peter’s favorite memories surrounded the holidays.

**His first memory of Christmas was when he was three.**

Richard Parker was called into work on a Saturday morning and Mary mentioned meeting him in Manhattan afterwards for a day at the Central Park Zoo and enjoy their festivities. As soon as they went to the zoo, Peter drug his parents everywhere: To go see the lions, to see the bears, to see the penguins.

“Mommy, look over there!” Peter pointed with his free hand to a small corral filled with small animals and children. “What’s those?”

“Well,” Mary said. “That’s a petting zoo. It looks like there’s sheep and goats and donkeys.”

“And a camel?” Richard piped up, curiously. And sure enough, there was a camel near the front. Its zoo keeper wore a shepherd’s costume, complete with a hook. “It looks like a nativity scene.”

“I love it,” Peter said gleefully.

“We can go pet them,” Richard suggested. Peter nearly died of happiness as he Richard took his hand and led him over to the camel.

“Hello there,” The shepherd said as Richard picked up Peter to gently pet the camel. “This is Ishmael. He’s one of the camels here at our zoo. He wanted to help out with the nativity scene.”

“You remember the story, right Peter?” Richard said. “Joseph and Mary traveled to Jerusalem and there was no room at the inn.”

“Yeah 'nd baby Jesus was born in barn,” Peter chirped. They just read the picture book last night.

“This is kind of like the barn he was born in,” Richard pointed out. “There were camels, sheep and goats that surrounded Joseph and Mary --”

“And baby Jesus.”

“And baby Jesus,” Richard confirmed.

“I want to see goats next!” Peter said as he wiggled in Richard’s arms.

“Okay,” Richard laughed as he set Peter on the ground and followed him to the goat. As Peter admired the goat, Mary Parker gently pressed her hand against the small of Richard’s back.

“We should look for some Hanukkah events for next weekend,” she said softly. “I think it would be good for him.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Richard nodded. They weren’t very religious. Christmas and Easter were the most that Richard went to church growing up. Richard grew up Catholic, but quickly fell out of practice when he went to college. Mary grew up going to synagogue every week, whether it was Friday evening or Saturday morning.

Before they had Peter, Mary still tried to attend, but soon found overwhelmed in work. When Richard proposed and they started to plan their wedding, they realized that they would need to choose a faith -- if any -- to teach to their children. It felt like their faith came down to where they picked their wedding venue: a church or a synagogue.

They wed outdoors at a park instead.

 **Peter remembers his first Hanukkah when he was four**.

By the next year, the Parkers decided on their holiday tradition. They would celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas.

They only had plans to celebrate Hanukkah at Mary’s old synagogue for the children’s Hanukkah fair, but as soon as Mary told her parents they were celebrating Hanukkah, they were on the first flight to New York City to make it in time for the first lighting of the menorah.

Mary’s parents, William and Moriah, used to live in Queens, too. Their parents immigrated during the war and settled in New York City. When William’s parents moved, they changed their last name from Patek to Fitzpatrick -- or that’s what they wrote on William’s birth certificate. Moriah’s parents kept their name, as no one batted an eye at Hanson.

William and Moriah believed that they were called to move to Israel, but delayed their move because of the wars and soon, Mary was born. They decided to wait until Mary was old enough that the move wouldn’t affect her education. But they didn’t realize that Mary would return from college and declare New York as her home. After her wedding, they moved to Israel.

Peter’s Bubbe and Zaide loved to spoil Peter. They had mailed him seven presents every year for Hanukkah even though Mary and Richard protested, asking if they would only send one or two. “But he’s our only grandson,” Moriah pleaded. “If you bless us with another, we’ll split the presents between them.”

Peter remembers Zaide teaching him how to play with a dreidel at the dining room table. He sat on his grandfather’s lap as he spun the wooden block.

“What’s that one mean?”

“Nisht,” Zaide told him. “It means we get nothing. Spin it again, see what it says.”

Peter spun it again, watching it hypnotically spin. “Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made you out of clay,” he softly sang. He only really remember that part. He mumbled the next few lines before starting back up. “Dreidel --“  It fell over. “What’s that one mean?”

“Gantz!” Zaide cheered. “That means all.” Peter reached over and pulled all the chocolate coins toward him.

“Can I eat them?”

“Not before supper,” Mary chimed in from the kitchen.

“How about one?” Zaide whispered, as he uncovered a chocolate piece handing it to Peter.

Peter smiled as he ate it. He didn’t want to eat too much. He remembered the latkes that they had earlier this week and he hoped that Bubbe was making them again tonight.

**Peter’s first holiday season without his parents was two years later.**

May and Ben didn’t know what to do.

They knew Mary and Richard celebrated Hanukkah and Christmas, but wasn’t sure how in depth they went. They didn’t know if they should follow through with Santa Clause or find a menorah to light. Could they celebrate Hanukkah if they weren’t Jewish?

Soon, May came home to a package on their doorstep addressed to “The Parkers.” She opened it, revealing seven light blue presents and an envelope on top.

 

> Dear Ben and May,
> 
> Thank you for taking care of our Peter. We won’t be travelling to New York this year. Maybe next. Please give him our love and a present each night. I want to share my recipes for latkes and challah. Peter loves them.
> 
> Our synagogue in Queens has a festival for children for Hanukkah. Please take Peter if you have the time.
> 
> Please tell him his Bubbe and Zaide love him.
> 
> We will try to make it next year.
> 
> \--Moriah and William Patek

May called the synagogue. The festival was the next day, and luckily, she had the day off. She took Peter, who has been quite reserved over the past few months, and was pleasantly surprised as he happily led her around the children’s festival. He taught her how to play dreidel, although he couldn’t remember what the characters meant. He had her taste the latkes, although, “Bubbe makes them better.” Peter pulled May to the puppet show. “This is mommy’s favorite story.”

And as Peter sat on May’s lap, she hugged him tightly. Because this was the boy she had during the summer. The bright cheery boy who was excited to share experiences with others. She was afraid to let go, that the boy might disappear again.

But he didn’t.

**Peter was excited to share the Parker holiday experience with Harry.**

He had already started on the challah earlier in the afternoon, using his Bubbe’s yellow-faded recipe. He needed to write it down somewhere else, but he loved reading her handwriting. It made her feel closer to home. He hoped by the time Harry got there, he’d either have the braided bread in the oven -- or at least, the dough would be finished rising and Harry could help him braid it. He almost forgets every year how long it takes to make challah.

By the time he started to roll out the dough, he heard his phone buzzed once. He continued to roll the dough, assuming Harry was telling him that he was leaving until a few minutes later, his phone buzzed several more times excitedly. He wiped his hands on his apron and pressed the home button.

_H: I’m running late._

_H: OH MY GOD_

_H: I GOT NEWS_

_H: ILL TELL YOU WHEN I GET THERE_

_H: oh mYGOD_

_H: okay leaving now_

Peter’s dying with curiosity He wanted to call Harry and demand an answer. But he needed Harry to focus on the road. He knew he wasn’t going to tell him right away and that he was going to leave Peter hanging.

_P: Drive safe!!! You better not forget to tell me._

_H: Oh I won’t._

_H: Forget that is._

_H: I’ll drive safe._

_H: Starting now._

Peter sighed loudly. He hoped loud enough that Harry could hear him. He returned his attention back to the bread, rolling out the strands and started to braid the dough. He knew his Bubbe would create a six braid … but he wasn’t that talented. He moved the dough to a tray and covered it with a towel, letting it rise a little more. By the time Harry gets here, the bread should be in the oven.

Peter wondered about starting on the latkes, but if he did, Harry and he wouldn’t have anything to cook while they waited for the ham to finish cooking. He washed his hands and played on his phone while he waited for Harry to arrive.

As Peter started to age, he felt awkward at the children’s Hanukkah festival, as it was aimed more for elementary students. He finally told May that he would be comfortable if they just made challah at home. As much as he appreciated May for taking him, he just didn’t feel the connection anymore. It was about the same time that it dawned on Peter that his parents weren’t returning home, even if they haven’t been found.

Some part of him still hopes that his mother would smell the bread baking or his father would smell the ham roasting and that they would walk in the door and scoop him up in a hug, like they always did when they returned from their trips.

Peter stood awkwardly in the kitchen. He was glad that May wasn’t home yet. He’d hate for her to know that he still had _some_ hope that his parents would return. He didn’t want to think she wasn’t enough -- because she was. She was more than enough. She was his everything. She helped shaped him into who he was today.

_Knock knock knock_

Peter went rushing to the door, pulling Harry inside.

“Hey,” Peter smiled, pressing a quick kiss against Harry’s lips. He looked at Harry and grinned. “You dressed up?”

“Yeah,” Harry smirked. “I figured it’s a special occasion. I see you also dressed up -- " He gestured to the apron.

“Oh, well, I was baking -- “ Peter stopped, suddenly realizing that the bread was supposed to be baking now. “Shit, hold up.” He let go of Harry as he went to move the bread into the oven. “I was baking and if I didn’t wear it, I’d be covered in flour.”

“Makes sense,” Harry said, as he wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist.

“Wait -- " Peter pushed Harry off of him and went to the pantry. He pulled out another apron and started to put it on Harry. “You're dressed up. You don’t need white stuff all over you.”

“Maybe I do,” Harry smirked, bumping his hip into Peter's. Peter thought for a moment before blushing.

“You know what I meant,” he said, playfully shoving Harry’s shoulder. “Now. Tell me your secret.”

Harry froze for a second. Half-forgetting what his secret was, and thought Peter was calling him out on the Goblin. But then he remembered.

“I got in,” Harry grinned. “I got into Columbia.”

“Holy shit,” Peter smiled. “You got in?”

“Yeah!”

“Holy shit,” Peter whispered. He pulled Harry in for a hug. “Oh my god. I’m so proud of you.”

“I was so nervous.”

“I knew you’d make it in,” Peter smiled. “I wish we had like sparkling cider or something to help celebrate. I mean, we have nonalcoholic eggnog and soda.”

“No, no, not yet,” Harry said. “We need to celebrate when your acceptance letter comes -- "

“ _If_ it comes,” Peter reminded Harry.

“ _When_ ,” Harry corrected.

“How did yours get here so early? Weren’t they sending them out next week?”

“Dad suggested he may have pulled some strings to get it here early,” Harry said. “I … I really hope he didn’t mean that he pulled strings to get me in.”

“No way, have you met yourself?” Peter joked. “What was your final GPA for the semester **:** 3.8? .85?”

“3.89,” Harry mumbled. The assignments he turned in late cost him a few percentage points since he left last minute, and a few of his teachers wouldn’t accept ‘business in Europe’ as a credible excused absence. “But that’s just for the semester. It’s not my entire GPA. And my freshman year was bad -- I didn’t care at all.”

“Okay but I’ve seen your ‘I don’t care’ work,” Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s still good.” Peter gently placed his hand on Harry’s cheek. “You deserved to get into every Ivy League school. They would be lucky to have you.” He pressed a kiss against Harry’s forehead. “Come on, let’s make latkes.”

“Latkes?” Harry repeated. “I thought we were celebrating Christmas.”

“I mean, we are,” Peter shrugged as he pulled Harry to the counter. “It’s Christmas, with fried potatoes.”

Peter started to show Harry how to make latkes. But soon realizing that they only had one grate. Peter took it onto himself to grate the peeled potatoes, as long as Harry prepared the other ingredients. Harry quickly chopped the onion and set aside the beaten egg. He returned to Peter, slowly running his hands down Peter’s muscular arms, taking in Peter's definition under his fingertips, bringing his hands to a rest on Peter's hips. He laid his head on Peter’s shoulder watching him grate the potato.

“So, this is how you gained all that muscle?”

“Clearly.”

“I didn’t know you were Jewish,” Harry said.

“My mom is,” Peter said. “Was. Uh -- her parents live in Israel.”

“Have you met them?”

“Yeah, they came over for Hanukkah when I was four or five.”

“Have you been to Israel?”

“Uh -- no,” Peter said, almost a little ashamed. He really didn’t have any plans to go, even though he knew he should. He hasn’t seen his grandparents in forever. But, he’s never really been outside of New York City. He wasn’t sure if he could fathom stepping on a plane. “It’s too far. I don’t know if I could … do that.”

“Hm,” Harry said as he took the bowl of freshly grated potatoes to the sink to add water. “We should change that.”

“Oh no -- "

“Oh yes.”

“Hare -- "

“Not now, of course,” Harry smiled. “We have to wait for your acceptance letter first. Then we’ll go to Israel.”

“Oh God,” Peter wasn’t sure if he was praying or if he was exasperating, but either way, he hoped Harry was joking.

**Although, Peter’s worst holiday experience was all his fault.**

Peter practically begged Harry to skip Flash’s party. That they should go play tourists in Time Square and enjoy the festives. He didn’t mind the parties at Flash’s house -- hell, this year he considered Flash a friend, but he couldn’t handle drinking again.

Knowing it was New Year’s Eve, they were going all out. While they might end up staying the night at Flash’s, Peter didn’t want to end up throwing up at Flash’s house, to die of alcohol poisoning before any of his acceptance letters arrive or, even worse, Harry to think he was good enough to drive them home. At least if they drank before going to watch the ball drop, they would sober up by the time they made it back to Oscorp for the night.

Peter just wanted a nice night out, enjoy the last day of the year with his boyfriend. They didn’t have to do anything fancy, just walk a mile south of Oscorp, listen to a few musicians perform, watch a large disco ball fall and drop confetti, and kiss at midnight.

That’s all he wanted.

But that’s not what Peter got.

They went out for dinner, Harry’s treat at a nice restaurant. (“I promise you, the only other place that would be open now is McDonald's.” “I’m fine with a McDonald's date.” “I’ll remember that when we’re in college.” “You’re probably still gonna take me to nice places, we both know that.” “You got me.”)

The two grabbed coffee before Harry pulled Peter around Manhattan to a hole-in-the-wall venue where small indie artists were playing in celebration of the New Year. “We can stay warm here,” Harry half-shouted as he wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist as they listened to the set. Peter leaned against Harry as the speakers tested his ear drums. He closed his eyes as he listened to the melodramatic music. The beat sent shivers up his spine, he leaned closer to Harry.

Wait.

No that’s a Spider-sense.

He grabbed Harry’s hand and quickly pulled him away from the band as a wall came crashing in. Peter didn’t need to see more than a flash of gray before knowing that their night was a mistake.

“Wegottago -- " Peter tried to say before he felt Harry pulled away from him.

“Peter!” Harry cried out as the Rhino pulled him into his grip. He started to panic as the Rhino started to run toward a wall. Harry braced for impact, closing his eyes and tensing up. If the wall was going to break, so were a few of his bones. The Rhino rotated his shoulder, blocking the debris from hitting his prize hostage.

Peter, still in shock, started to run after them. He had to save Harry. There was no way he was going to let the Rhino hurt Harry.

Peter quickly slipped on his Spider-Man mask, hidden in the dark of the venue and the dusk of the city. As soon as his mask was on, he pulled his coat and sweater off and shoved it into his backpack. He worked his pants off as best as he could tossing them into the bag then tossing that into an alley, followed by a quick web to stick it to the fire escape. He tried to make a mental note of the alleyway, but his focus was on the Rhino -- on Harry.

Spider-Man strung a web on a light pole, swinging his way to the Rhino.

“This isn’t a good way to make friends,” Spider-Man called, spraying a web in front of the Rhino … who piled through it.

“Not here for friendship,” The Rhino said. “Here for money.”

“This isn’t how taxi services work,” Spider-Man tried to spray a web again, only for the Rhino to pile through it.

“New horn,” he smirked. “Helps destroy webs.”

“I see that.” Peter had to think fast. He webbed one of the Rhino’s legs, quickly attaching the web to a light pole’s base. The light pole started to budge with the Rhino’s force, but had a little resistance. Spider-Man hoped it could hold out for a minute longer. He sprayed another web, and hoped that his plan worked. The Rhino’s body angled with the light pole creating a weight on his leg allowed him to get stuck in the web.

Spider-Man webbed his other leg and attached his web to the crane above him. Slowly rising the Rhino upward. Thank God for constant construction. He stopped roughly ten floors up, hoping that was enough to keep the Rhino from trying to break free.

“Should have thought this through, Spider-Man,” The Rhino teased as he released Harry.

Harry had no time to yell, to scream, to panic. He mindlessly reached for the Rhino, hoping that he was teasing -- that Harry was worth more alive than dead, but it seemed that he didn’t care. This wasn’t like the time he fell from the Baxter Building. Not at all. Harry was terrified. He had so much to live for, he had future.

But it was all slipping away from him.

Harry hoped that Peter wasn’t watching.

He closed his eyes as he prepared to --

Be caught?

Harry opened his eyes, watching the Rhino disappear into the night -- no. Harry was disappearing into the night. The Rhino stayed in place. Harry gripped onto his saving grace, feeling the web pattern of his suit beneath his fingertips. He glanced at Spider-Man, who kept staring forward.

“Thank … you,” Harry said quietly, closing his eyes. He couldn’t look at the city this high.

Spider-Man nodded softly. He couldn’t speak this close to Harry. He might figure out who he is. He held Harry tighter. He swung a few more blocks, trying to get as close to the venue as possible before setting Harry down. All he wanted to do is pull Harry into a tight hug and hold him, telling him everything was going to be okay ... but this is Spider-Man, not Peter. Peter's anxiety would have to wait.

“Uh,” Spider-Man cleared his throat and lowered his tone, attempting to disguise his voice. “You should be safe for the night. Stay close to the boys in blue.”

“Is Peter okay?”

“What?”

“Is Peter okay?” Harry stared at Spider-Man, waiting for an answer. Spider-Man wasn’t sure whether to lie about Peter’s whereabouts or play dumb. “Peter Parker? The photographer from the Daily Bugle?”

“Haven’t seen him tonight,” Spider-Man said. He started to walk away from Harry, as much as he hated to. “Tell him to stop spinning photos of me. It’s getting ridiculous.” Spider-Man took off, hoping that Harry wouldn’t follow him.

As soon as he dodged into the alleyway, he waited a few minutes, just in case Harry followed him. Once he was in the clear, he slipped his clothes back on, tossing his mask back in the bag and ran out the opposite end of the alleyway and back toward the venue.

The venue blocked all entry into the building. They said it was unsafe. They didn’t care who Harry’s father was, he wasn’t allowed to go in. “If your friend was inside, he’s out now. We cleared everyone out.”

“H-he’s more than my friend,” Harry cried. “I-I need to find him.”

“Have you called him?”

“T-twenty times.”

“We’ve cleared the building. We promise you, he’s not in there.”

Harry huffed as he walked to the side walk, frantically looking around. He rubbed his arms nervously.

“Harry!” a distance voice cried out.

“Pete?” He turned around and found himself in a strong embrace. Peter buried his face into Harry’s shoulder, hugging him tightly, searching for the comfort he needed ten minutes before.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter whispered.

Harry was ready to cry. He was terrified. He nearly died. But all he could do was wrap his arms around Peter and hope that everything was going to be okay. “I-I love you,” He whispered. “I love you s-so much.”

“I love you, too,” Peter whispered back. “You’re safe.”

“I-I don’t feel like it.”

“I’ll keep you safe,” Peter said. “The police will keep us safe.”

“T-they didn’t,” Harry whispered. “They c-couldn’t.” He glanced toward where the Rhino was tied up, several blocks away. He could see the faint police lights in the distance. “C-can we go home?”

“Of course,” Peter said, as he pulled away from their embrace and took Harry’s hand as they started to walk back to Oscorp. After a few minutes, Peter piped back up. “I’m sorry about tonight. I’m sorry we didn’t go to Flash’s like you wanted -- "

“D-don’t apologize for that,” Harry said. “I had fun tonight -- e-except for the part with the Rhino. H-he’s like an annoying third wheel. C-can we stop inviting him?”

“Yes please,” Peter laughed.

“I’m s-sorry we don’t get to see the b-ball drop,” Harry said.

“We can watch it on TV,” Peter shrugged. “Or catch it next year. It’s not like it’s a once-in-a-lifetime event.”

“It’s j-just what you w-wanted to do,” Harry said softly.

“I wanted to spend time with you,” Peter stopped, he wrapped his hands around Harry’s waist. It almost felt like he threw Harry off balance by stopping. He held him tightly, keeping him still. “That and I didn’t want to die of alcohol poisoning.”

“I w-wouldn’t let you d-die,” Harry laughed. He pressed a soft kiss against Peter, who almost seemed a little surprised.

“Oh my god, Hare,” Peter said, taking off his glove and touching Harry’s bare cheek. Harry closed his eyes at the warmth of Peter’s fingertips. “You’re freezing. We need to go.”

“I-I’m not that c-cold,” Harry said as he felt his body being pulled with Peter.

“You’re colder than me,” Peter said. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m f-fine,” Harry mumbled. “A little t-tired but I’m o-okay.” He stopped and glanced at his watch.

115/72, 50 bpm, 95.7F, 59%

Harry closed his eyes as he felt Peter’s strong arms wrap around him.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened,” Peter rushed. “Okay. We’ll be there soon.”

Harry opened his eyes. They no longer were on the street corner.

They were in the back of a car. A cab?

Harry glanced toward Peter, who focused on his phone as he finished a call. His eyes welled with tears as his arm held Harry tightly to his chest. Harry slowly reached up to wipe the tears off of Peter’s face-- realizing that Peter’s hand was tight on his wrist, checking for a pulse.

“Oh god, Harry,” He pressed a soft kiss on the top of Harry’s head. “I-I couldn’t feel your pulse.”

“W-where are w-we g-going?” Harry struggled to get out. He could feel his body shivering, but he could hardly feel anything.

“Oscorp,” Peter whispered. “Your dad said he called for your doctor.”

Harry laid his head against Peter’s chest, listening to the rapid thump of his heartbeat.

“I’m so sorry,” the boys said in unison.


	31. 'Please don't forget me.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a dumb and forgot that school districts in cities like NYC wouldn't have such a long winter break oops I should've known better but i'm not correcting my mistake (Mainly because that's a LOT of emotions to go through in a solid week, let them have the two-and-a-half weeks I grew up with).

Harry was under house arrest until school started again.

He wanted to protest.

He wanted to fight.

But Norman had the final say.

"If you would stop trying to get hypothermia, you wouldn't be stuck at home."

But at least Norman allowed Peter to come over.

Peter brought all sorts of goodies, even after Harry told him to not worry about it.

The first day, Peter went out to retrieve coffee. They did have to reheat them in the microwave. The next day, he brought Chinese takeout, which also needed reheated. Peter learned his lesson the third day and brought DVDs instead, as they ordered in. Peter would wait until he warmed up before he even considered cuddling with Harry. Which killed Harry, who wanted nothing more than cuddles with his best friend. ("You cuddled when I _actually had_ hypothermia." "Yeah because I was a whopping three degrees warmer than you. I still had body heat then, I can't steal yours.")

But once he warmed up, Harry was glued to Peter's chest. Peter was a living space heater. And while Harry was back to regular temperatures, he still lay on Peter as if he was freezing. He wanted to blame it on the hypothermia, but Harry knew better. The fall had freaked him out, and rightly so. He thought he was about to die. If it wasn't for Spider-Man, he would've been surrounded in a pool of his own blood. Peter would have found him lifeless on the streets of New York and that hurt him more.

He held Peter tighter.

They hadn't talked about what happened.

Harry's trying to forget.

But that's hard to do when the past three nights, he had nightmares about the fall. The first night was hard to explain to Peter. Peter just held him in dark, attempting to calm him down. The next two nights, he had to calm himself down. It was much easier when Peter was there.

Harry wasn't sure if Peter even saw it happen.

If he didn't, maybe Harry shouldn't talk about it. Shouldn't bring him into it.

Harry tried to pay attention to the movie Peter brought, but he couldn't.

He kept thinking about the fall.

It was eating him from the inside.

"Hey, on _that_ night ..."  Harry tried to cautiously approach the subject. "Did you happen to see ... what happened?"

"It ... was all a blur," Peter lied. He remembered every detail of it. "I remember seeing you being pulled away from me."

"Peter, I ... " He sighed, as he laid his head on Peter's chest. "I've been having nightmares about it."

"About the Rhino?"

"About ... dying." Peter held Harry tighter. "I ... I was still in the Rhino's grasp when Spider-Man tied him up. H-he dropped me. I-I thought I was going to --"

"Hey," Peter whispered, running his fingers through Harry's hair. "You're okay. You're safe now."

"Will I ever be?" His voice filled with exhaustion, fear, despair. He knew his last name was worth a pretty penny -- but he always thought he'd be worth more alive. How much more will he have to endure? Will this incident be the worst? Maybe he should be thankful for Spider-Man for being there. "Thank ... God for Spider-Man."

"Yeah," Peter said softly. What would have happened if they were still broken up? And the Rhino captured Harry? What could Peter have done if he wasn't there? Nothing. 

"Peter?"

"Yeah."

"If I die --"

"You are not going to die," Peter interrupted.

"If I die," Harry continued. "Please know that I love you. God. I love you so much, it's almost ridiculous for just three months -- four if you count my extra month. Please, just ... don't forget me."

"You're not going to die," Peter repeated softer. "We'll be more careful next time. We'll watch out for the Rhi --"

"It's not just the Rhino, Pete," his voiced cracked at Peter's name. "It's everything -- Rhino and bad guys for sure, but it's also my muscle disorder, Pete. We still haven't ... developed anything yet."

"You have plenty of time, right?" Peter asked softly before quickly correcting himself. "I mean, you guys just started a new medicine two months ago. And whenever I've stayed over recently, you haven't ... had _an episode_." Peter was referring to Harry waking up in the middle of the night, violently throwing up. Peter wasn't going to count the _other_ night, as the cold was a factor. Peter should've knew better. It was his fault.

"It's just slowing the process," Harry whispered. "It's not healing me. We don't ... know how much time I -- My mom passed away young, but my Poppa didn't have problems with it until his fifties. So we really don't know how long I have. Pete, I --" He hesitated. "I can't die. I have so much here -- I have you here. I can't ... die."

"Hey," Peter said calmly, brushing the hair out of Harry's face. "You're here  _now_. And that's all that's important to me."

Harry smiled. He closed his eyes as he focused on Peter's heartbeat, soothing him into comfort. He spoke quietly, "Please don't forget me."

Peter softly sighed. He wasn't going to convince Harry that everything was going to be okay. "Harry, I could never forget you."

\----

Peter wasn't allowed to come over on the fourth day. Harry was going back to his work at Oscorp, and actually do his internship. Since they were waiting for test results back from the blood sample, Harry wasn't allowed to go back out as the Goblin, not until the temperatures rise again. For now, he's shadowing some of the engineers in the prosthetic department.

Oscorp was the leading brand in prosthetics, always has been as long as Harry could remember. But now, they were trying to incorporate neurological technology and create fully-functional prosthetic limbs, moving at a person's own will. They have gotten close, a few success stories but Norman couldn't stop there. He had to make the technology fully available for everyone, along with keeping the prosthetics to the Oscorp standard -- the best product on the market. He couldn't release a product half-ready or constantly needing upgraded. The only way he could release this product early if they had the neurological wiring complete and it could be attached to a 3-D printed prosthetic, but it wouldn't be enough.

Harry wasn't allowed to do any of the actual work -- as he wasn't qualified to touch the product. The engineers did let him see some of the older models and explained what went wrong or what needed improvement. They almost practically handed him a coloring book to keep entertained. Well, it was the file on the neurological background.

Harry sighed as he flipped through it. He wondered if the engineers knew he was a high school senior and not already enrolled into Columbia. He knew eventually he would know the specific nerve names and understand what the hell the file was talking about, but as of now, he had no clue.

The file was huge, and most of it was written at least ten years ago. He remembered his dad talking up the researcher. "We had one of the best neurological scientists working on this project. Straight from MIT." Harry flipped to the front cover, searching for the scientist's name that was connected to MIT education, which was a dumb move as most of the scientists on the list graduated from MIT. He glanced at the names, trying to see if any of them sounded familiar. He stopped two-thirds way through the list of names.

_Mary Parker (née Fitzpatrick)_

Was that ... Peter's mom?

Harry couldn't remember what Peter's mom did. Hell, he couldn't remember what his dad did. He knew his dad worked at Oscorp and worked along his father. But he couldn't remember exactly.

_H: Hey random question_

_H: What's your mom's maiden name?_

_P: Patek._

"Maybe not then," Harry thought to himself.

_P: Well_

_P: Technically, Fitzpatrick_

_P: Depends who you ask._

_H: Did you know she worked at Oscorp?_

_P: Really??_

_P: I knew dad did_

_P: But as far as I remember mom was a stay at home mom_

_P: I mean I think_

Harry cautiously looked at the preoccupied engineers before he took a picture of her name in the list and sent it to Peter. He flipped through it again, realizing that Mary Parker was the scientist that his dad bragged about.

_H: <photo attachment>_

_P: Holy shit_

_H: The names are in alphabetical order_

_H: She wrote OVER half of this._

_H: Dad said she was one of the best neurological scientists._

_P: Holy shit_

_H: MIT too._

_P: Holy shit._

_H: Do you want to talk?_

_P: Tonight._

_H: Sounds good._

_H: Call me whenever, I'm done after 6._

"Harry, you could at least look busy."

Harry looked up to see his father. He grinned, showing him the study in his hand. "Just doing some light reading."

"Let's go to my office, we need to talk," Norman ordered, rather than suggested. " _That_ stays here."

Harry rolled his eyes as he laid the file back on the table for the engineers. Norman knew him well enough that he was going to take it to show Peter. He knew his father was only trying to protect the work -- they _were_ running a business, not a charity. And at least, Harry knew if they kept the file here, they could at least offer the technology at a decent price for those who struggled to cover their medical bills as is.

In the office, he gestured for Harry to sit down.

"After two weeks of testing, it appears that we can confirm that the sample is the one."

"You're shitting me."

"Harry --"

"Sorry," Harry sighed. "But you're serious? Like, Spider-Man's blood would heal me?"

Norman nodded. "We can't confirm yet that it could stop the disorder in general, but it could help fight the loss of muscle."

"When can we start human testing?" Harry said eagerly. "I can take a week off --"

"We won't start those until summer," Norman interrupted. "We need to make sure it's safe --"

"Then why tell me at all?" Harry said, slumping back into his chair. "You get my hopes up just to crush them again."

"Harry," Norman snapped. "I'm not trying to get your hopes up. I'm keeping you informed on the project. You _wanted_ to be involved, remember?"

"That was before it was about me."

"It's _always_ been about you." Norman sighed. "We need to make sure that it won't harm you. We can't inject you with the serum without concerns about long-term." 

Harry sighed. His dad was right. He's _always_ right. On the bright side, the lab testings could stimulate long-term effects within a two-year span. 

"Plus," Norman continued. "We would need another sample before we start administrating it to you."

"So let's get it," Harry said. "I'll suit up. I'm sure Spider-Man's --"

"Not until it warms up," Norman reminded. "We would need a fresh dose anyway before testing. We can retire the Goblin for a few months. You could be a normal teenager."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, a normal teenager with an expiration date."

"You're not going to die, Harry," Norman scorned. "I wish you'd get that through your head."

"I will," Harry said. "Once, we start human testings."

Norman rolled his eyes. 

\--------------

"Holy shit," Peter whispered, for the fifth time in a row. He sat on a roof of a building in Manhattan, with all intentions to patrol as Spider-Man, but here he sat, mask in his hand as he read Harry's text again. "Holy shit."

He knew his mother -- he thought. 

Why couldn't he remember what she did for work?

She was a stay-at-home mom.

He remembers all that she did to give him a head start.

They went to the museums and the zoos a lot, thanks to his dad's Oscorp pass -- or was it hers?

She read to him all the time and constantly.

She worked with him, colored with him, helped him.

He remembers the "activity books" they used to do, now knowing they were work books meant for elementary school children, often meant for children way older than him.

He remembers that she tried to get him enrolled in school a year early. She knew he was ready for it. But after assessments, the prekindergarten decided he wasn't emotionally ready. Peter was a sensitive child, just as any three year old would be. It also didn't help that his birthday was in May, putting almost two years between the oldest kid in the class and Peter. The teachers worried about him being bullied. 

He learned so much from his mom in such a few years -- but Peter wasn't sure if he actually learned about his mom. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember her in his mind. She had brown eyes, like his. Her hair was brown and long -- no. Short and curly ... wavy? He sighed. He couldn't remember what she looked like from memory. He knew there was pictures somewhere at home, but he was trying to remember her for who she was, not what he could recall from the photographs.

He tried to remember her voice. Did she have an accent? Zaide had a Polish accent -- Czech? Bubbe didn't have an accent -- or did she have a faint one?

Peter sighed. He hated how he didn't know much about his parents, how his memories were only through stories that Aunt May and Uncle Ben told. How his memories of his childhood with his parents were fleeting.

He knew his dad taught in the summers, or he started again when Peter was five. The first summer that he started teaching, Mary stayed home with Peter. She didn't want him to stress too much before kindergarten started, but Peter definitely remembers staying with Aunt May and Uncle Ben during that summer, too. Not all the time, but some nights he'd stay the night.

It was the following year that he stayed the entire summer with them. Both of his parents were going to London, but he only remembers his dad teaching. Maybe his mom taught, too. If she didn't have any other obligations ... then why didn't they take Peter, too? 

Peter sighed softly as he locked his phone.

Would it be different if they took Peter?

They would've came home earlier, Peter had to go to school.

Or would Peter be missing with them?

Maybe it was best if Peter went home and take a peek at some of the old photo books they had if Aunt May wasn't home.

Or maybe, it was best to leave this alone.

He sighed as he slipped his mask back on. If anything, he'll talk to Harry about it. Harry opened up to him yesterday, Peter should do the same. They were trying to communicate better, and maybe Harry knows what to do. Or at least, he give Peter comfort over the phone and maybe that's all Peter needs.


	32. 'Speaking of blowing -- '

Peter couldn't count the times that Harry's made him happy. There were way too many to count.

Often, it was just seeing his face appear in a crowded room. A sight of comfort in a sea of anxiety. And as soon as Harry would see Peter, he smiled. Harry's smile was always met with one in return. His smile was calming and sweet. And always sent butterflies wild in Peter's stomach. Most of all, his smile told Peter everything was alright. Peter could always count on his smile to cheer him up.

Don't get Peter started on Harry's laughs. When Harry finds something clever, he half-chuckles. Something that slips under the radar as it almost sounds like a soft, heavy breath. As an Osborn, Harry keeps his guard up, looking professional most of the time. So when Peter can pull this soft chuckle out of him in public, it makes Peter grin from ear to ear. (If Peter's lucky and catches Harry off-guard, he might pull a slightly louder snort.) But Peter loves hearing Harry's natural laugh. It came straight from his core and could fill the room quickly and his heart with joy. 

**Sometimes, it could be as simple as Harry handing a cup of coffee to Peter before Computer Aided Design to make Peter smile.**

But Peter was confused at the green folder that was set down next to him.

"What's this?" Peter chuckled as he took the folder. He flipped it over to see the Oscorp logo.

"What we talked about on the phone on Monday," Harry said, gesturing to it. They had a few minutes before the morning bell rang and if Peter was going to look at it, he better look at it now. "I printed as much as I could from the system before Norman caught me." 

"No shit," Peter whispered before opening the folder. The first page he was met with a picture of his mom, posed for the company's photo ID. She smiled softly as her straight brown hair framed her face. Peter glanced at the information beside her picture, which included her full name, birth date, department and lists of projects that she was included in. "Did you get in trouble for this?"

"A little," Harry shrugged. He lowered his voice to mimic his father. " 'If you're careless Harry, it could end up in the wrong hands. Blah, blah, blah --' " A little part of Harry felt bad for mocking his dad. He knew it was a constant worry for a business to lose their projects to someone else. He cleared his throat before returning to his normal tone. "But after I told him it was for you, he actually gave me more."  Harry was actually surprised with how much Norman was willing to give, especially since he scowled at the idea of sharing the prosthetics file with Peter earlier this week. "He did redact information from their research projects. Y'know. Oscorp secrets."

"Like super soldier secrets?" Peter laughed as he flipped the page to see his father's Oscorp employee information. He was a little surprised that Norman was willing to give Peter something. He still believed that Norman hated him or, at least, strongly disliked him.

"Exactly," Harry half-laughed. He knew it was pretty close to the truth, he just couldn't admit it in a serious manner. He pushed his chair closer to Peter, wrapping arm around Peter's waist to get some PDA before the teacher came in. He laid his head on Peter's shoulder as he read the file. "Your parents were the lead scientists in a lot of the projects. I'm ... sorry that you don't get to see their full research."

"Yeah," Peter said softly as he flipped through the next few pages. The pages were heavily redacted, but at least Peter could see the title of the projects and the years. Something about this folder reminded Peter of the children's Hanukkah fair at the synagogue. He felt a connection to his parents again. Peter smiled at Harry. "Thanks for getting this for me." He pressed a soft kiss against Harry's lips.

"No problem," Harry smiled as he leaned in for another kiss.

"Please," Mr. Greenwich's familiar voice groaned from behind him. "The semester's just starting. Can we go at least three class periods before I have to write you guys up for PDA?"

"Sorry, Mr. Greenwich," the boys said in unison as they scooted back to their spots. Mr. Greenwich sighed as he walked to the front of the class. He half-wished he had wrote up assigned seating for the class, or at least looked at the roster before coming to class. Were both the boys going into engineering? He knew Harry transferred from a business-focused school and that Oscorp had a wide market. He turned around to ask, just in time to see the boys sneaking another quick kiss.

"Boys," he sighed. "What are your focuses? Engineering?"

"Biomedical," Harry said.

"Chemical," Peter said.

"So I have you both for Experimental Engineering and senior research?"

"Yep," The boys said in unison.

Mr. Greenwich sighed heavily.

"Maybe I need to bring him coffee, too," Harry whispered. Peter tried not to laugh.

**As much as Peter tried not to admit it, Harry's mischief brings a smile to his face. Always had.**

Peter remembers when his dad started to bring him to Oscorp on a regular basis. Peter made a friend and loved to hang out with him, and they had to take the subway to go and see him. That made a three-year-old boy's day. Most days, they colored or played with racecars in Harry's father's office. Sometimes, Harry's dad would allow them into the conference room with building blocks. Peter loved those days. Mainly because the conference room had spinning chairs and he loved to spin. Sometimes, he'd forget to build and just spin.

He remembers Harry looking up from his blue and green skyscraper to watch him spin.

"Do you want me to push you?"

"Yeah!" Peter said excitedly. He didn't realize that was an option. Harry climbed off his chair and pushed Peter around the conference table. "Go faster!"

"I can't," Harry whined. "I got little legs and you're heavy."

"Am not."

"Are too." Harry stopped pushing the fourth time around. He was getting kind of dizzy. "You know where we should go?"

"Where?"

"Down the ramp." Harry went back to his chair and started to push it out of the conference room. "C'mon."

"I don't know," Peter said hesitantly. "Daddy said we suppose to stay here."

"We're just outside the door," Harry assured. "It will be fun. I promise."

"Okay," Peter sighed as he climbed off his chair and followed Harry. As they snuck their chairs up the hallway's ramp, Peter glanced toward the large table where his dad was supposed to be working. He wasn't there. Peter wasn't sure whether he should find that calming that he wasn't going to be in trouble or worrisome as he didn't know where his dad was.

"C'mon, Peter," Harry said from the top of the ramp. Peter looked down the incline. The ramp started near the elevator and followed the length of the room, with the bottom leading to the lab's tile floor. Harry had explained to Peter that the ramp wasn't always there, that there was only the small staircase to the lab floor. But some people couldn't use stairs, so his dad changed the hallway into a long ramp. It was the same ramp that they used for their racecars while their dad worked at the tables. Peter remembers how fast the racecars went.

"Harry, I'm scared."

"It will be fun!"

"Nu-uh." 

Harry huffed. He wasn't going to go down the ramp by himself. "Sit with me!" Peter hesitated. "I'll keep you safe, c'mon."

"Okay."

Harry let Peter sit down first. Peter was smaller. He wasn't going to move the chair by himself. But as soon as Harry sat down (not much heavier than Peter, but almost a year older) the chair inched slightly forward. Peter gasped and wrapped his arms around Harry. Harry extended his arms, holding onto the chair's armrests as tightly as he could, almost as a seat belt for Peter. "You ready?"

"Uh-huh."

Harry jerked the chair forward and it slowly started to roll down the ramp. The further it went down, the faster it went and the louder the boys laughed. The chair spun slightly and came to a rest at the end, landing with the back of the chair against the wall.

"Again?"

"Again!"

The boys went down three more times before the chair caught uneven carpet and they went tumbling. They were too busy laughing to really let the pain of the rug burns kick in.

**Peter also remembers Harry convincing him to skip school for the first time.**

Harry told Peter that he just needed to forget to get off at his bus stop. And maybe find his way on the subway to Manhattan. Peter wasn't sure at first, he was actually nervous about it.

"Come on, Peter," the twelve-year-old boy begged. "It's our only chance at a spring break. If it makes you feel better, I'll skip Monday." Their school schedules were different, as Harry attended a private school. Harry's spring break was this week, while Peter's, and the rest of New York City's public school districts, were next week.

"Okay," Peter said. "But what if -- " He looked around the corner of the kitchen before speaking softer. "Uncle Ben or Aunt May finds out."

"They won't," Harry promised. "I got you covered."

And Harry came through. As soon as Peter was on the subway to Manhattan, Harry had called Peter's school and pretended to be Uncle Ben claiming Peter was sick with the stomach flu. If Harry tried hard enough, he could lower his voice enough to sound like an adult male, thanks to puberty. Probably the only good thing puberty was good for in the sixth grade.

As soon as Peter got off the subway in Manhattan, Harry was there waiting for him. "C'mon we got a lot to do."

"Like?"

"Arcade. Movies. Pizza. Rollercoasters."

Peter grew red. "Harry I didn't bring a lot of money."

"I told you, Pete," Harry said, grabbing Peter's arm to drag him to the next line. "I got you covered. Come on, Chinatown's waiting."

Peter at the time blamed the butterflies in his stomach on his worries about being caught skipping school, even if he didn't _feel_ worried. Peter now knows that it was Harry that caused slight rush of excitement as he continuously grabbed Peter as they ran from one building to another.

**Peter half-wished that Harry grew out his his mischief, but that clearly wasn't an option.**

They sat at lunch as they watched Vanna Smith go around and campaigned for Prom Queen. She gave out candy -- bubble gum specifically. "Don't blow it, _chews_ me," She laughed as she handed out gum to every student during lunch. "No seriously. Me for Prom Queen. Got it?"

"God, she kills me," Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved green beans in his mouth. "We haven't even had winter homecoming yet. Like, just hang up posters."

"She did," Peter whispered, as he noticed Vanna coming to their table.

"Hey guys," she said, way too enthusiastically. "Either of you want to be my Prom King?"

"No," the two said in unison.

"Oh," She said, rolling her eyes. "I forgot."

"That we're together or that we're gay?" Peter asked.

"Bi," Harry corrected.

"Bi," Peter confirmed.

"Bye?" She asked slightly confused, before realizing what they meant. She laying the gum on the table for them. "Sorry. Both. Anyway, don't --"

"Blow it. We got it," Harry said as he reached for the gum. "We'll consider it."

"Oh my god," Peter teased, laying his hand on Harry's. "Speaking of blowing -- "

"Bye guys," Vanna said, in a hurry before quickly moving to the next table.

"Speaking of blowing?" Harry smirked, raising an eyebrow. Peter snuck his fingers under Harry's hand and stole his piece of gum.

"She got annoying," Peter shrugged as he stuck the gum into his mouth.

"You know what would be funny?" Harry grinned as he picked his bookbag off the floor and dug in it.

"I'm afraid to ask."

Harry pulled out his notebook and flipped to an empty page. He pulled out a sharpie and started to write on it. "If we won."

"Oh god."

Harry flipped his masterpiece around to show Peter. He wrote their campaign in all caps **:**

> **PETER PARKER & HARRY OSBORN:  
>  PROM KINGS.**

"You're kidding, right?"

Harry dug in his bag again before pulling out electrical tape. "Nope." He glanced around the common room before finding the perfect spot. "Gimme a second." Harry ripped the page out of his notebook and walked across the room to Vanna's largest poster. He taped it dead center and smirked. Until he thought about her ripping it down. He quickly grabbed a pen from his bag and wrote a quick note on the bottom of the paper before going back to Peter.

"What did you write?"

" 'If you tear this down, you're homophobic.' "

"Asshole," Peter laughed. Harry shrugged as he put his items back into his bag.

"We'll see who's the asshole when we're prom kings."

"We'll _both_ be the assholes," Peter laughed. "We would steal the titles from -- "

"Who says the titles weren't rightfully ours in the first place?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "I think we're the cutest couple here."

"That's your bias."

"Clearly," Harry said as he unwrapped his bubblegum and stuck it in his mouth. "But it's the truth."

**Harry's hopeless romanticism, or attempts to be, always made Peter heart flutter.**

Some of the little things Harry did just constantly reminded Peter that this wasn't fiction, this wasn't a dream, but that this was his reality.

And Peter loved it.

He loved the gentle kisses in the hallways.

He loved the single roses Harry would bring him after hearing he was accepted into (yet another) college. Each followed with a gentle peck on the lips and a "I told you so." (Peter would roll his eyes at Harry's comment.)

He loved the notes that Harry snuck into his books for Peter to find at a later time.

Sometimes they were sweet, _'Love you, goofball and all.'_ or _'You are my night & day.'  or 'I'll trade away the stars just to see your smile once more.'  _And sometimes, they were inappropriate.  _'Fuck me long and hard, please and thank you.'_ or  _'Your dick + me = gr8 time'_ Which Peter wouldn't mind these notes, if they weren't strategically placed in his textbooks, specifically classes where Harry was sitting across the room, smirking as Peter turned beat red and hid the note.

But with every note, Peter smiled.

Peter already had his surprise Valentine's Day gift from Harry. Harry had walked into his class with a small bouquet of tulips for Peter. Peter smiled as he handed a box of chocolates and sweets from Schmidt's Confectionery, a suggestion from Aunt May. "Sweet," Harry grinned as he popped a chocolate into his mouth. "You should really read the note." Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled the note gently away from the flowers.

_'I want to plant my tulips on your dick.'_

Peter grew red as he hid the note from anyone who might see it. Harry grinned. Peter took another glance at the note, noticing the handwriting. "Did you make someone at the flower shop write this?"

" ... Maybe."

"Oh God," Peter sighed.

During last hour, Peter opened his organic chemistry book, one of the only classes he had this semester without Harry, to see a light blue piece of paper fall out of it. Peter quickly grabbed it before Mr. Nelson picked it up. He glanced sideways, checking to see if a neighbor was peaking at his secret message before opening it up, revealing a carefully drawn ticket stub.

_'One ticket to the bone zone, expires 2/14 11:59 pm'_

Peter blushed as he shoved the ticket into his pocket. They had plans for dinner tonight, but he didn't think their Valentine's date would be innocent. But it didn't cross his mind that _this_ was the night. He had originally planned to patrol as Spider-Man before, but now he's reconsidering it if he's going to be full-frontal with Harry.

As soon as the bell rang, Peter shoved his book into his bag and dashed out. He needed to run to the Bugle to drop off a few photos before heading home to get ready for their date. He gave a few quick pleasantries as he ran in, avoiding small talk with the reporters and beelined straight to the photographer's corner. He set his camera bag down and opened it, revealing a large white paper scrap sitting on top of his camera.

_'Don't shoot your load too soon!'_

"Fuck me," He mumbled as he moved the paper, pulled out his camera and replaced the message back into the camera bag. He quickly loaded the images on the computer, sorting through the best Spider-Man photos he had from this past weekend. He partially hated to admit how much he loved the camera lens Harry bought him for Christmas, mainly because it was way out of their price range they had previously negotiated. But the telephoto lens offered Peter so much more than what his previous lens had, plus allowed him to keep his camera at a safer distance and avoid being destroyed in the chaos.

He printed the photos, gathered his stuff and took them straight to J. Jonah Jameson's office. "Here's the photos for today," Peter said as he adjusted his bookbag's strap. "From this weekend's shenanigans with the banks."

"Right," Jameson said as he started to flip through the photos, complaining about the composition or how it would've been better to get the photos the day it happened. He looked up to notice the lack of Peter in his office. He sighed, marked how many he planned on using and passed the photos to the copy desk.

As soon as Peter arrived home, he ran upstairs to take a quick shower.

"You're home already," May called from the kitchen. Peter froze at the top steps. He thought Aunt May was working today. She must have switched shifts with another nurse.

"Slow day at the Bugle," Peter called back downstairs. "Not much action going on in New York today."

"Maybe that's a good thing for once," She said as she stood in the kitchen's doorway. "Are you and Harry going out tonight?"

"Yep," Peter nodded. "Gonna shower real quick and he's supposed to be here in 30."

"Curfew tonight," She said as she walked back into the kitchen. "It's a school night. I don't need you boys out late."

"How early?"

"10."

"Okay," Peter sighed. His curfew hardly ever dipped lower than 10:30 on a regular date with Harry. Aunt May must have guessed their plans. It was Valentine's Day and there's only so much a couple wants on to do on this day. Whatever their plans were after supper, wasn't happening at his house if Aunt May wasn't working tonight. "We'll make that."

Harry arrived fifteen minutes after Peter got out of the shower. Peter barely had time to put on his blazer before Harry rang the doorbell. He quickly ran down the stairs and greeted Harry with a kiss. "Aunt May, we're heading out."

"Behave!"

"Will do," The boys called back before jumping into Harry's car.

"I have a curfew at 10," Peter warned. "And Aunt May's home for the night."

"She's not working?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Shit."

"Shit?"

"Dad's taking the night off, too," Harry rolled his eyes. " _They know._ " He sighed again. "My curfew is at 9:30." Harry hardly ever had a curfew, Peter was surprised to hear his was earlier than Peter's.

"We could -- " Peter started before trailing off, trying to figure out if he wanted to continue his sentence.

"We could?"

"Find a parking garage," Peter said sheepishly.

Harry smacked Peter's chest in excitement. "Peter Benjamin Parker, you are a genius."

"That's what they tell me," Peter grinned. "We're not ... actually going to a parking garage, right?"

"No, I got a better idea," Harry grinned. "I'll tell you after dinner."

The two went for dinner at Michael's of Brooklyn. Peter sighed as soon as he saw the awning, knowing it was going to be more expensive than what he'd want Harry to pay. ("It's Valentine's Day, let me spoil you." "You keep forgetting I'm a cheap date.")

Afterward, Harry drove them to the pier.

"Are we going to the beach?" Peter asked. He only knew that they were having dinner. He wasn't sure what Harry had planned for them that night. He personally thought it was too chilly to go for a walk on the beach.

"Actually," Harry said as he unbuckled. "I figured this was more romantic than a parking garage."

"Oh!" Peter said, growing red.

"Ifyoudon'twantto --" Harry rushed, realizing that he may have pushed Peter too much.

"No, I want to," Peter interrupted. "I just -- didn't realize that's what we're doing."

"We can wait for a better time --"

"Do you ever shut up?" Peter said as he leaned in to kiss Harry. It took them several moments to realize that the front seat was not ideal for the two of them sprawled out, as the gear shift slowly dug into Peter's side. Harry weaseled himself into the back, and helped Peter into the back. As soon as Peter was on top of Harry, their lips met again. Harry's hands traveled to Peter's waist and slipped under his shirt, his fingertips on Peter's bare skin. Peter's heart fluttered, beating faster. It's been way too long since he's had _close_ time with Harry. And they're way too over dressed for this. He forced his jacket off, tossing it somewhere to the front. He ran his hands against Harry's chest. "You need yours off," Peter said, slightly out of breath as he broke away from the kiss.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry agreed. He wrapped an arm around Peter's waist tightly as he readjusted himself underneath him, truly not meaning to bump his excited member against Peter's, but the escaped gasp from Peter's lips made it worth while. Harry grinned, pressing a soft kiss against Peter's lips as he pulled his jacket off. He kissed Peter's neck, leaving a trail of kisses up to Peter's ear. He softly nipped his earlobe before lowering his voice, ordering Peter **:** "Switch me spots."

"Holy shit," Peter murmured as shivers went down his spine. Something about Harry's low growl of a command turned Peter on more than his kisses. He quickly did as he was commanded, leaning back against the door. Harry pressed more kisses against his neck before slowly moving down to Peter's pants to unbuckle them. "You have -- uh -- lube and condoms, right?"

"I couldn't sneak them out with dad home," Harry said, as he slowly slid Peter's pants down. "I figured we'd go with plan B."

"Plan B?" Peter asked, a little on edge. It was getting hard to focus on safe sex with Harry so close to his dick like this. Harry gave him a knowing look, waiting for Peter to think it through. Suddenly, it clicked with Peter. "OH."

Harry laughed as he lifted the edge of Peter's shirt to press a soft kiss against his waist. Peter's eyes fluttered shut. He wasn't going to last long, he knew it. "I figured since I gave you the _ticket_ , you probably should get to use it." He pressed another kiss against Peter's waist, this time softly sucking Peter's skin. Peter gasped, gently reaching his hand out to Harry's shoulder, grasping at his shirt. Harry looked up from the soft red mark. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay," Peter nodded, leaning back into the seat. "This is perfect."

Harry sat up in between Peter's legs, gently tapping the side of his knee. "Bend them."

"What?"

"Bend them." Peter did so. "Great. Keep them there." Peter was a little confused until Harry pulled Peter's briefs down to his ankles and filled the void between his legs. "Let me know if you need me to stop." Peter nodded. Harry grinned, pressing one last kiss against Peter's tummy. He slowly took Peter's member into his mouth, instantly pulling a moan from Peter. Peter's fingers quickly tangled into Harry's hair as he kept his other hand on the seat's head rest, trying to focus on not bucking his hips, but it was hard to focus on anything except for Harry.

But that was his life now.

All of his focus was on Harry.

And Peter wouldn't have it any other way.


	33. 'Eventually, we should actually use our mouths and talk.'

Sophomore Richard Parker sat in his Modern American Literature and Poetry class, half-regretting his decision to take this class. "It will be a breeze," his roommate Arnie said. "I took it last year, I can sell you the books. Plus, half of them you should've read in high school. It's a small class, speak up like every two weeks and you'll pass."

"You swear?"

"I swear."

Well, here sat Richard with only half of the correct books (as the professor likes to keep the material fresh every year), trying to figure out if it's too far in the semester to drop out without a penalty. Richard could care less about literature, it wasn't his favorite subject at all. He liked reading, but he couldn't dissect what the author was "truly feeling" when they were writing. The only good part was he wasn't exactly failing. He had his brother Ben to thank for that. When Richard had trouble understanding what he was supposed to read between the lines, he'd call Ben and asked for his help. Luckily, most of what they were reading Ben had already read, or had assigned for his students to read.

That was, until their semester switched over to poetry.

"I can't help you there, Ricky," Ben had told him over the phone the night before. "Poetry's not my stronghold. I can explain _Naked Lunch_ by Burroughs. That should count for something, right?"

"That's one that Arnie said we were going to read," Richard sighed. "I tried to read it the other day as a break from Thermodynamics, and that's some weird shit."

"Try asking someone if they can help you," Ben suggested. "I mean, you're the only non-English major in that class, right? Surely one of them has a hankering for poetry. Didn't you say there was a cute girl?"

"Ben," Richard groaned. 

"Okay, okay," Ben sighed. "I'll stay out of it. But I bet money on you getting a girl by the end of this semester, so if you could pull through -- "

"Bye Ben," Richard sighed before hanging the wall phone back up.

Richard put his school first. He wanted to finish his bachelor's degree, get into grad school and find a research career. Ben always teased him about not planning for a family, but Richard never was sure if he actually planned on dating _anyone_. 

Even when it came to the cute girl that sat in the row ahead of him. He thought she was pretty -- hell, he thought she was gorgeous, but he wasn't sure if he was attracted to her. He wasn't sure if he was attracted to _anyone_. It felt like a guessing game for the most part. 

But that was most of Richard's life anyway.

"Hey -- uh -- Mary," he whispered, leaning forward. She turned around in her chair, honestly a little surprised to see him in class early. "You're an English major, right? Do you get poetry?"

"Are you asking if I'm an English major because I'm a woman?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm asking because it's an English class full of English majors," Richard suggested. "Plus, I don't think I've heard anyone discuss anything but the assigned reading in here."

"It would help if you came in this early all the time," Mary said. "How do you consistently arrive a single minute before class starts?"

"I got it down to a T," Richard smirked. He knew the class isn't hard to arrive early to. It's the first class after lunch, and the entire campus is required to have a free one-and-a-half hour lunch break unless food was provided for the class. "Anyway, English major?"

"No," she sighed. "Brain and cognitive sciences."

"Oh," Richard said, leaning back. "Cool."

"Is that a problem?"

"Oh no," Richard apologized. "I just -- I was hoping you'd help me understand what's going through Ginsberg's head."

"And I don't know?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah," She sighed. She wondered how much she was going to have to spell out for him. "I do actually. I enjoy poetry."

"Would ... you be willing to help me?"

She studied Richard for a moment, before giving in. "Alright. It's not because you're cute though. The paper's due next Tuesday, do you want to meet in the library tonight?"

"Yeah that would work for -- you think I'm cute?"

"Who doesn't," she rolled her eyes. "I'll meet you after 6."

\----------

At first, Mary felt off put by Richard. He was kind of a smartass. But his quirky comments usually pulled a stifled laugh from Mary. And, as much as Mary hated to consider this a 'good quality' in men, he actually listened to her as she explained something to him. She's tutored other students, more specifically in science courses, but they always were distracted by her or by someone else in the library. She rolled her eyes and would remind them of their grades. But Richard listened.

"Do you know anything about Allen Ginsberg?"

"He's a poet," Richard shrugged. "And that he was close to William Burroughs. My brother, whose an English teacher, explained that to me."

"Your brother's an English teacher and you came to me for help?"

"He said he didn't get poetry," Richard shrugged. "Anyway. Ginsberg."

"Right," Mary said. "So, Allen Ginsberg is Jewish and his poem, _Kaddish_ , is dedicated to his mother who passed away. 'Kaddish' is usually referring to a hymn for mourners. It's like saying 'Even though we're in mourning, we still give praise to God.' "

"Oh," Richard said, as he started to glance through his copy of the book. "He didn't seem very in touch with his religion from what I've read."

"To me, it's like his loss of his mother is reflected in his religion," Mary explained. "It's like he's going through the steps but he's struggling to keep in touch with his religion."

"Are you sure you're not an English major?" Richard laughed.

"If I was, I've been going to the wrong classes for four years," Mary slightly chuckled. 

"Oh shit." It dawned on Richard that Mary was a senior and that he was wasting her valuable time. "You should be working on your senior research instead of helping me. I'm so sorry -- "

"No, you're fine," She laughed. "If I was stressed about it, I wouldn't have taken this as an elective."

"You're taking this for fun?"

"You're not?"

"No," Richard scoffed. "This is my humanities requirement. The communication intensive."

Mary laughed. "You're a dumb ass, you know that right?"

"I was accepted into MIT, I can't be that much of a dumb ass?"

"This is a 300 English class," Mary explained. "If you wanted an easy humanities requirement, you should've went with one of the basic English courses they offered. They had some communication intensive courses that weren't this difficult."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be in them," Richard smirked. Wait. Was he flirting? He kind of took himself off guard.

He took Mary off guard, too. "Thanks?" She said as her cheeks flushed a little. "Anyway. Ginsberg."

Mary continued to explain the first part of Ginsberg's poem. They had started to go through the second one by the time Richard's stomach growled. He glanced at his watch.

"So the cafeteria's closed now," He said, almost disappointed. "Do ... you want to go grab some food? And we could continue this later?"

"Uh, sure," Mary said as she placed her bookmark in her copy of the book. "Let's grab burgers. I'm starving."

\----------

Richard and Mary never really were "official."

They went out.

They held hands.

They had dates.

They definitely made out in the back of his car. And in his dorm. And in her more private apartment (when her roommate was at her night class, of course).

But eventually, they weren't anything at all.

Spring finals had overwhelmed them. And Richard understood, Mary was focused on her senior project. He just wished they could've spent more time together.

By the time Richard returned in the fall, he hoped Mary could find time to spend with him. But he was a little surprised the next time he saw her.

"Mary?" He called softly from the doorway.

She looked up from the papers on the desk. "It's Ms. Fitzpatrick if you're in this class."

"No, I -- uh -- I'm heading to Chemical Kinetics," He said, gesturing down the hallway. "I didn't realize you taught."

"It's part of the graduate program," Mary said. "This is intro to neuroscience, if you're interested in joining."

"I wish," He smiled. "I would love to spend more time with you."

Mary blushed. She glanced toward the empty classroom, glad nobody else was here to witness their conversation. "I loved to, too, but ... " She sighed softly. "Rich, I can't. Not while I'm teaching."

"Are you teaching every semester?" Richard asked eagerly. "What about the summer? I had planned on going home, again, but I'm sure I could find a job here and take a summer course or two -- "

"Richard," She said softly. "I can't do ... a relationship. I'm just overwhelmed with classes and work. I really want to but ... "

"I understand," Richard said, as he started to lean out of the doorway. He glanced at his watch before looking back at Mary. "Do you want to go on a date with me four years from Friday?"

Mary laughed. "How about we go out on Friday for lunch -- just as friends, and in _three_ years, we can see where we stand."

"I can do that," Richard smiled.

\----------

Richard and Mary had their first real date April of her last year and during Richard's first year in graduate school.

They had their last real date the week before Mary graduated.

"I got the research position," Mary cheered as she wrapped her arms around Richard.

"That's great!" Richard smiled, placing a soft kiss against Mary's lips. "So are you working under Maurice or with him?"

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"It's a different research position," She said softer. "It's for a company in New York."

"Oh," Richard said softly. The two stood awkwardly before Richard broke the silence. "I'm starting to think that the universe doesn't think we should be together."

"Don't think that," Mary said.

"It's true," Richard softly chuckled. "Come on, we have a dinner reservation. We can talk about where we can see ourselves in two years."

They definitely didn't see themselves bumping into each other at a local doughnut shop in Queens two years later.

"Richard?"

"Mary?"

"What are you doing here?"

He raised his coffee cup and brown paper bag of doughnuts. "Breakfast."

"Me too," She said softly, clutching her bag in her hand. "Something to eat on the ride to Manhattan."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Richard said. "Today's actually my first day at my job in Midtown."

"Oh!"

"I mean, if you don't want to, I can get on a different car -- "

"No, I'd love the company," Mary insisted. "We can catch up."

On the subway, they tried to figure out how long they've both been in the city. They found out they grew up two blocks away from each other, and found themselves in different school districts. ("Oh my god, you were a wildcat? Your football team sucked ass." "Okay, but half of your team were in their second year as seniors.") They actually didn't live much farther from each other now. 

As soon as they got off the subway at Seventh Avenue, they both started to walk north.

"Are you needing directions somewhere?" Mary asked confused.

"Nope," Richard said. "I've already been there a few times for payroll stuff. So, I'm not concerned."

"Okay."

As soon as they arrived to the base of Oscorp, Mary stopped and turned to Richard. "Thanks for the company," she smiled. She gently kissed Richard's cheek. "We should really get together sometime."

"Yeah, definitely," Richard nodded as both Mary and him started to walk toward the door. "Wait. Do you ... ?"

"Work here?" She returned his question.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Biochemical department."

"Oh my God," Mary sighed, leaning her head against Richard's shoulder. "Eventually, we should actually use our mouths and talk."

Richard shrugged. "I mean, that's fine, too. But I really like it when my mouth is on -- "

She smacked his chest before going inside.

Finally, it happened.

They made it "official" a week later. Mary asked Richard out.

"And I mean it," she said. "Will you be my boyfriend _finally?"_

Richard thought quietly.

"You don't have to be rude --"

"Sorry!" Richard apologized quickly. "I meant it as a joke. I was trying to figure out what would keep us from actually dating. We're done with grad school, we're in the same city and got great jobs _._ Nothing. It's like the universe is finally on our side."

"Took us long enough," Mary laughed. "Can I tell you something dumb?"

"Yeah."

"I kind of actually believe in fate," She said, almost embarrassed. "Like ... I figured if we were meant to be, that it would happen. I kind of feel like that with all relationships. That no matter what obstacles are in the way, if they're meant to be, everything will work out in the end."

"That's deep," Richard said softly. "Can you remember that in two years for our wedding vows?"

"You really think we're going to get married in two years?" She laughed. "I was going to give us four."

"I'm optimistic," Richard laughed.

"We'll see who's right," Mary said, smiling.

Two years later, Mary proudly repeated herself under a greenery arch as she held Richard's hands. Half of her couldn't believe how fast her life has changed, but the other half was excited to see what was to come. And all of her was excited to tell their families that they were planning to start a family of their own. 

\---------

Peter laid in his bed as he flipped through the file Harry gave him. He only knew his parents through distant memories and stories passed on. Photos helped the memories feel more real, but sometimes they felt like a dream from nights ago. He wished there was more he could read. Half of the documents were redacted, thanks to Norman. But Peter understood his reason. 

He half-wondered if his mom had read him some of her research as he was a child. Some of her work sounded familiar -- or he could at least imagine her voice as he read.

Peter flipped to the next page. His heart stopped.

_Arachnid Archives, Oscorp (1998-06, 2014-15)_

It ... wasn't what he thought it was right?

He skimmed down and found his father's name under one of the researchers, right underneath to Norman's name.

The years almost surprised him, too. He wasn't sure if it was an ongoing project, or if it was something that they had picked up every now and then, but chances are when he went to work with his dad, his dad was working on _this_ project.

_His dad helped made him who he is today._

No.

The project was restarted the year Peter was bit by the spider. His father had nothing to do with his powers. 

Maybe.

He wish he knew more. He tried to read past the dark lines that Norman drew to cover the classified material. He wasn't sure if he was curious because it was his father's work ... or if it was the source of his powers.

He sighed as he tossed the file to the edge of the bed and buried his face into his pillow. He internally fought with himself before grabbing his phone and texting Harry, hoping his favor wasn't too much.

_P: Hey I got a question_

_P: What do you know about the arachnid archives?_

_H: I'll see what I can find out._

_P: Thank you!_

Harry sighed as he sat on his bed. He knew quite a bit on the Arachnid Archives, it was one of the first files he read about Oscorp's biological genetic testings and animal adaptions. He knew it went beyond basic everyday medical projects. He knew his father considered using it for super soldiers if testing was positive. But it wasn't. They closed the project almost ten years after they realized it had traveled too far from what it was supposed to be. There was no going back.

Until Norman reopened it, in search for a cure. But it was quickly closed again as they found most of their research accidentally damaged -- or purposefully. They couldn't trace the scientist who had tampered with the spiders and ended up firing anyone who had access to the research that afternoon.

Harry wanted to give Peter the closure he needed. He wanted to give him his parents' research. He wanted to give him back his parents. 

But he couldn't.

Not with this project.

Peter couldn't know the darker secrets of Oscorp.


	34. 'Peter first, Spider-Man second.'

Peter considered quitting Spider-Man before. Once, after being mauled by the Lizard. Luckily, he made it home in one piece with Aunt May out of the house and was able to clean up his wounds. The Lizard had clawed through his suit, leaving deep cuts down his chest. Peter thought he was going to die on the bathroom tiles as he tried to cover his cuts with gauze pads. Luckily, his powers gave him the ability to heal quicker than normal. Although he was sore the next few days, he was back in action by the weekend. He was honestly surprised that the cuts didn't leave any scars -- or at least, that the scars have faded by now.

He quit after George Stacy died. The Lizard had set out to poison the city -- to turn the residents into lizard-people of some sort -- but George Stacy helped Spider-Man stop the Lizard, stop Dr. Connors, but George was killed in line of duty. Spider-Man stepped back from fighting crime. Peter stepped back from Gwen Stacy. Her father's death was the first he saw in action and he panicked.

What's keeping Peter from being killed?

What's keeping the _ones he loved_   from being killed?

He hung up the suit and let the Avengers take care of New York. Well. For a little while.

His break only lasted a month. Crime started to pick up around the city. Peter knew he had to go back to fighting crime. The Avengers seemed to only pick up the big stuff, but that left the constant bank and bodega robberies unhandled. Even some of the smaller villains were picking up the pace. It was then Peter realized Spider-Man couldn't just quit. _Not in this state_.

While dating Harry, he's considered quitting a few times.

Well, _half-considered_ it.

Spider-Man felt like a burden sometimes, mainly when Peter and Harry were out in the city and some villain decides he needs to break up their dates. There was a few times they've seen police cars speed off in the opposite direction, but Peter squeezed Harry's hand as he watched them drive away. He tried to remind himself that he was Peter first, Spider-Man second. And if he was to keep those lives separate, he needed to draw the line somewhere.

But that line kept getting fuzzier the more they found themselves on dates with the Rhino, Dr. Octopus or the Sandman.

And Peter kept finding it harder and harder to make up excuses for his disappearance. There's only so many times he can lose Harry in a crowd before Harry realized that he needed to physically pull Peter away from the crowd and down an alleyway for safety. Thank goodness the Sandman didn't have the same objective as the Rhino and had left Peter and Harry alone.

Peter remembers how tightly Harry held him as they waited for the chaos to be over. Peter rested his head against Harry's as he cautiously watched the alley, making sure they wouldn't have any visitors. Peter knew that eventually, he needed to tell Harry that he was Spider-Man, but he kept delaying it. He could feel Harry worry as they waited for the police sirens to die out, signalling it was safe to come out of hiding. (What Peter didn't know is that Harry was more concerned for Peter's safety rather than his own, cautiously listening in case they needed to mad-dash in the opposite direction.)

What truly made Peter consider giving up Spider-Man was the free time he got to spend with Harry. It was the moments that he didn't care about the state of the city or worry which villain would attack next. It was the moments where he was enamored with Harry as they lay on the floor of the Osborn den or strolling through Central Park laughing.

But these are the moments he felt guilty for, as if he was cheating on the city of New York with Harry. He would sigh internally, reminding himself, _'Peter first, Spider-Man second.'_ But that didn't mean he wasn't going out as Spider-Man that night to pay the city back. There was always trouble going on somewhere.

Even if it was spring break.

Harry tried to get Peter to pull away from the city. It was the first time in a long time that they both had the same week off for spring break. Harry wanted to fly Peter to Los Angeles or somewhere warm with a beach. Harry really wanted to take Peter to Europe, but Peter reminded him that was a little hard without a passport, especially on a short notice.

"Honestly, what's the furthest you've traveled out of New York City?" Harry asked as he cuddled with Peter on the den's floor.

"People actually leave the city?" Peter raised an eyebrow. He thought for a moment. "We went to Albany on a school trip before --"

"Just Albany?" Harry spat out. "Jesus, Peter. We really need to go somewhere during spring break."

"I don't know, Hare," Peter said. He wasn't sure if he could leave the city uncared for. 

"Apply for your passport, too. We need to fill that up. If you get it soon, you can come with me to visit Nonna."

"Pretty sure it takes at least three months," Peter laughed.  "Don't you go in June?"

"We could visit her all summer long," Harry shrugged. "I'm sure she'd love that. We'll just go as soon as you'll get it in." 

"Harry, I can't."

"No, it's okay," Harry assured. "We can cover it."

"No really, I can't." Peter didn't want to mention that he really didn't like the idea of flying. He absolutely hated it. It reminded him too much about his parents' disappearance. He knew he would get anxious as soon as he stepped on the plane, and if it hit any turbulence, he might have a panic attack. He actually worries anytime Harry was flying anywhere and starts to stress if his arrival text was late. "I have a few scholarship competitions I need to attend this week and some in the summer. Plus, I'm going full-time at the Bugle for the summer."

Which was true. His scholarship competition for Columbia was tomorrow. Aunt May was hesitant about letting Peter stay the night with Harry, but it was a closer commute and Harry even offered to drive Peter to the campus and loan him an outfit for the day. His summer position at the Bugle was _almost_ full-time. He was still a few hours short of the Daily Bugle offering him healthcare or any other bonuses, but that was fine with Peter. It gave him a few extra hours as Spider-Man for the summer.

"Oh," Harry said. Sometimes, he forgot Peter didn't take the Bugle position for fun and that he needed it. He wished Peter didn't have to work, but he knew that Peter wasn't going to take his money willingly. "Well, you're welcome to crash here. I need to see your face this summer as much as possible before college eats our souls." He pressed a soft kiss against Peter's cheek, hoping that he would catch his sarcasm. "Hey, did you apply for the Oscorp scholarship?"

"Uh ... no," Peter said sheepishly. "I figured it would look bad if the Norman Osborn's son's boyfriend got the scholarship."

"I don't think so," Harry said. "If anything, someone might call out the fact that Oscorp had picked another top senior from Midtown for the fourth ... fifth year in a row. Plus, there's several scholarships available. I think there's two full rides."

"Yeah," Peter said softly. He wasn't sure if he'd still apply for the scholarship, even after Harry campaigned for it. It just felt wrong. "I just ... I'll think about it." He nodded softly. Maybe it was a good idea, anything would help, even if it was one of the smaller scholarships. He'd talk it over with Aunt May. "Are you ready for bed? I have an early morning."

"Yeah, definitely," Harry said, standing up from the floor. He reached down and helped Peter up. "Are you showering tonight or in the morning?"

"I was hoping _we_ could shower tonight," Peter smirked, pressing a soft kiss against Harry's lips. "But if you're not feeling it --"

"I'm always feeling it," Harry interrupted. He grabbed Peter's hand and pulled him toward the bathroom. "Come on, Pete. No time to waste."

Peter laughed before pressing his lips against Harry's skin. They both knew that they weren't going to go much farther than heavy petting, but with each gentle kiss that slightly roughens and the soft gasps that turn into moans, suddenly the world around them disappears.

Peter's worries melt under Harry's touch, soon to forget the soft sounds of the police sirens in the distance. He'd feel guilty about this later, knowing he should've used his free night to help chase bad guys, but there was no way he was pulling away from Harry any time tonight.

He treasured every moment he spent with Harry.

\--------

Peter's hickeys, strategically placed to hide under his dress shirt, would act as a reminder for Peter. Like an "IOU" note for the city, except instead of a yellow sticky note placed on a desk, they're small reddish bruises scattered across his collarbone and down his chest. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror taking note of the reminders before washing his face. Soon, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a chin resting on his shoulder.

"Admiring my work?" Harry asked, with a smug smile on his face.

"I think you got a little too close with this one," Peter pointed to a slightly darker hickey that rested at the base of neck. "I honestly think it's going to stick out."

"If it does, I have concealer," Harry said as he pressed a gentle kiss on Peter's shoulder. "You'll be fine."

"Why do you have concealer?"

"Why do you get rough with your love bites?" Harry asked in return. Peter had a tendency to find a spot on Harry and cover it with tough love rather than spread it across Harry's body. Peter's many love bites tend to look like someone had punched Harry a few times, leaving large bruises behind. And with Harry's luck, he'd always have a business meeting planned the next day, sporting a few dark marks under his suit. "We should leave in 15 minutes, if we're wanting to grab breakfast."

Peter turned around, leaning on the counter to finally admire Harry's outfit of the day. He had to work all day at Oscorp and, apparently, had meetings with a few investors according to the three-piece suit he was wearing. Peter sighed longingly. He loved when Harry dressed up. He always looked nice. Peter reached out and gently traced Harry's jawline, drawing a line directly to a hickey that was sticking out from his collar. "Here's one."

"I knew it," Harry rolled his eyes as he dug in the cabinet drawer to find his concealer. "Go get dressed before we get stuck with over-priced coffee and slightly burnt banana bread."

"Okay, to be fair, Starbucks' banana bread isn't that bad," Peter said, softly kissing Harry before going to try on the outfit Harry had picked out for him. Luckily, they were close to the same size. Peter just needed to bring over a pair of nice slacks, or else Harry's would look like high waters. Harry had promised Peter that he could get away with shorter pants if he looked nice, but Peter figured it would be safer to bring his pants instead.

As soon as Peter's shirt was on and buttoned, Harry dragged him back into the bathroom and pointed to the mirror. "Look. They're all hidden. Like hickeys are supposed to be." 

Peter rolled his eyes. "You have concealer. You're fine."

"Yeah," Harry said as he pulled Peter back out of the bathroom and handed him his blazer. "But my ego is bruised -- like my neck and chest and stomach and --"

"I get it," Peter smirked. "I was there."

"Come on," Harry pulled Peter. "Let's go get breakfast before you blow Columbia away. Are you feeling a full-fledged breakfast or something from a bakery or just a coffee shop? I know of a couple of good places in the upper west side."

"Any would be good," Peter smiled. "I just need to be there by nine."

"We'll play by ear," Harry said, pressing a soft kiss against Peter's lips. "Come on, let's go."

\---------

Since Harry was working until five, he told Peter he could hang out in the penthouse when Peter was done.

Peter mentioned he'd probably head home afterward, that he needed to grocery shop for Aunt May. 

But he did say he would stop by Oscorp to change after the competition. As much as Harry wouldn't mind or would be at his house later, he didn't want to take his clothes home. It felt wrong. He left Harry's shirt and jacket folded nicely on his bed with a sticky note that said "Thank you!" with a heart on it.

Peter knew he was the only one in the penthouse. Harry told him that Oscorp had a lunch meeting that he and Norman were going to attend, but Peter still kept Harry's bedroom door shut as he quickly slipped on his Spider-Man suit. He had a few hours to kill before Harry got off of work and would head to Queens, he might as well patrol the city for a bit. Before he slipped his clothes over the suit, he took a peek at Harry's mirror, gazing at what could be **:** Peter ending a long night of crime fighting only to come home to Harry's comfort. But Peter knew he couldn't do that until he told Harry that he was Spider-Man.

Shivers went down Peter's back. His Spider-sense? What for?

He slipped his mask on, trying to think what kind of trouble he might be in -- before he realized that this wasn't the kind of trouble he needed to fight. He quickly pulled his mask off and backed into the bathroom. Quickly, he webbed his clothes that he left on Harry's bed and reeled them in. He heard the door knob jingle. He webbed his shoes, swinging them to him and quickly pushing the bathroom door shut.

"Pete?" Harry called to the empty room.

"I'm in here," Peter said, slightly out of breath, as he quickly threw his clothes on. "I'm changing. I'll be right out."

"Okay," Harry laughed. "You know you could've changed out here."

"I ... thought you were Norman," Peter half-lied. He actually had no clue who was behind the door. Just that they weren't a threat to his well-being. He slipped his hoodie over him, completing his outfit. He slipped his tennis shoes over his Spider-Man boots, despite how uncomfortable it actually was, and fixed his jean cuffs to cover any exposed suit. "I thought you had a meeting."

"It was cancelled," Harry said as he sat on the bed, waiting for Peter to come out. "I came up to see if you were still here. I was actually just about to text you."

"You have good timing," Peter said as he opened the bathroom door. He smirked, nearly forgot about Harry's suit. "Did I tell you how handsome you look today? Because you look handsome."

"Like five times," Harry laughed as he stood up and walked to Peter, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I have a long lunch if you want to --" He pressed a soft kiss against Peter's jaw. Peter closed his eyes, melting into the kiss before realizing that soon Harry would put his hands under his shirt and feel spandex instead of skin.

"Actually," Peter said, pulling away and taking Harry's hands into his, avoiding the situation. "I'm starving. You want to grab something to eat?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, a little disappointed they weren't going to spend his lunch period making out. "Let me change first. I have the afternoon in the lab." He pulled away from Peter and went straight to his dresser to pull out a pair of jeans and baseball t-shirt. Peter leaned back against Harry's desk as he watched his boyfriend undress. Harry noticed his glances and may have started to seductively started to take his clothes off for Peter. Peter smirked before glancing at his phone, knowing if he watched more, he was going to regret not making out with Harry. To be fair, he was already regretting putting the suit on.

"What are you hungry for?" Peter asked as he mindlessly scrolled through Twitter, which was mainly filled with news reporters and police precinct Twitter handles.

"Uh ... somewhere close," Harry said as he slipped his shoes on. He had a long lunch, but that didn't give them enough time for a trip across Manhattan for a meal. "Are you up for sushi? There's a new place legitimately across the street."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Peter said.

"Okay. Sweet," Harry grinned as he grabbed Peter's hand and pulled him out of the bedroom. Peter barely had time to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. As soon as they stepped into the elevator, slowly lowered to ground level, Harry spoke up again. "It might be a Japanese steakhouse."

"Harry," Peter groaned. He had already agreed to going, he can't back out if it's expensive. Harry wouldn't let him.

"No, it's fine," Harry promised. "Plus, it's my lunch break. Oscorp may be paying for it."

Peter groaned again, as he leaned his head against Harry's shoulder.

Lucky for Peter, Yakitori Totto was in his price range (not like Harry would let him pay, it just was a price range he could agree with). It definitely wasn't sushi and it wasn't a steakhouse, but everything was grilled and delicious.

He does regret eating mochi for dessert. It's making crime fighting a lot tougher on a full stomach. 

Spider-Man sat on the ledge of a building, listening to the police scanner on his phone. He knew he should just be swinging around, searching for small stuff as he heads toward Queens, but he was going to relax a little more, letting his stomach settle from lunch before heading out.

Or he thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of green wiz by.

"Goblin," He murmured as he quickly took off after him. It's been months since he's last seen the Goblin, last seen _Norman_ out as the Goblin. He thought Norman got what he wanted when he took a vial of Spider-Man's blood, when he punched Peter and warned him to stay out of Harry's life. He could still hear the Goblin's anger, _'He's got a future and all you're going to do is drag him into danger. Leave him out of it.'_ He had phantom pains of the brutal force against his cheek. The past few months, Peter's almost been avoiding Norman, quietly asking Harry if he was going to be home when they were going over or denying to join an Osborn outing in fear of interactions with Norman. That's half of the reason he didn't want to apply for the Oscorp scholarship.

He should be fearful when he spots Norman, knowing that _the Goblin_ wouldn't hold back against a masked vigilante -- that many consider to be a menace -- especially with his own mask on. 

But still he follows.

He worked hard to keep up with the Goblin, weaving in between skyscrapers. 

Soon, Spider-Man came to a stop on top of a building, realizing he had lost the Goblin.

"Huh," he said to himself. He really need a game plan going into these chases. He needed to figure out how he was going to stop the Goblin -- how to stop Norman. But he couldn't do that if the Goblin's only targets were the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man. He had no proof that the Goblin was a villain at all. 

Sirens echoed in the distance. His spider-sense went off. He turned around to take off, only to be met with a fist to the face.

He went to the ground, feeling a knee dig into his side. He gasped as the weight of the Goblin pushed air out of his lungs.

"I didn't have plans for this," the Goblin said truthfully. He took out a vial, taking another sample of blood from Spider-Man. "Today was just a test flight -- and here you are, like a fly to honey."

"I'm just trying to keep the city safe," Spider-Man grunted. He tried to push himself out from under the Goblin, but was only met with more force from his knee. The Goblin removed the vial, tucking it away safely. He stuck a small orb on Spider-Man's back and stepped away. Spider-Man yelped in pain as it shocked him.

"You keep saying that," the Goblin said. "But who believes you?"

" _My boyfriend does_ ," Spider-Man spat, fully knowing that it would get under the Goblin's skin.

And it did.

The Goblin grabbed Spider-Man off the ground, shoving him to the edge of the building. He raised his fist, hesitating before dropping Spider-Man back to the ground. "I'll let you off easy -- Just. This. _Once_. You saved _him_ from the Rhino." The Goblin knew that the Coney Island incident was a long time ago, but it still meant a lot to him. He walked away to the other side of the building, ready to take off before Spider-Man could get back up.

"You can't stop me from loving him," Spider-Man called after him. " _Osborn_ , I love him. You can't stop that."

Spider-Man watched as the Goblin tensed at his name. He knew he was right about Norman. There wouldn't be any other reason for the Goblin to freeze.

"All you're going to do is put him in danger," The Goblin repeated. "I need him to stay alive."

Spider-Man tried to stand up, only to fall back on his knees, still numb from the shock. The Goblin quickly took off before Spider-Man could regain feeling. As soon as he was half a mile away from Spider-Man, he turned his communication device back on.

" --AROLD THEOPOLIS OSBORN, I SWEAR TO GOD WITH THE NEXT UPDATE, YOUR COMMUNICATION DEVICE WILL NOT --"

"He knows," Harry interrupted.

"What?"

"He knows who I am," Harry continued. "He called me Osborn."

"Is there a reason he knows?" Norman snapped. "You turn off your device too often --"

"Twice," Harry corrected.

"Too often," Norman repeated.

"I promise, I haven't gave anything away."

"Then it's settled," Norman said. "We'll use this sample for trials. And if it proves successful, we'll bring him in."

Harry hesitated. He knew that Spider-Man meant something to Peter. That Spider-Man not only saved Peter's life, but had saved his and many others in New York. But if Spider-Man is what could truly save Harry from dying, would it be such a bad idea?

"Okay," Harry said, nodding. "We'll bring him in."


	35. 'You should've told me.'

Harry cancelled on Peter after the Goblin's interaction with Spider-Man. He told him he was going to work late and he wasn't sure when he would get off. Even though it was a complete lie. He knew he was going to be done at five, maybe even before, but after his talk with Spider-Man, he just couldn't hang out with Peter tonight.

And by telling Peter, he means texting. 

He couldn't find any energy to call Peter after hearing Spider-Man refer to him as his boyfriend, yet again.

Not even if 'on-and-off' boyfriend like he did before. Just _'his boyfriend.'_

As soon as he got home, Harry didn't even want to eat. He went straight to his room, and crashed onto his bed. He glanced over at his clothes, neatly folded with a sticky note on top. "Thank you!" It read, complete with a heart. Harry softly smiled as he picked the note up and inspected it closer. He hated to fight for Peter's love against Spider-Man -- or whoever hid behind the mask. But he would.

He should just drop it.

He dropped the Spider-Man thing as soon as they got back together. He knew he needed to trust Peter and if Peter said he wasn't dating Spider-Man, he should believe it.

But it was hard when Spider-Man directly references him. _'Osborn, I love him. You can't stop that.'_ Maybe, Spider-Man was pining for Peter. That Peter wasn't involved at all.

Maybe ... he should just accept it.

That _if Peter was_ dating Spider-Man, Harry wasn't going to win his full attention, especially if they've been dating well beyond December. He would've by now. Peter would have been all his and he wouldn't have to worry about fighting Spider-Man for his attention.

Harry sighed as he buried his face into his pillow.

He needed to drop it.

He needed to ignore his worries and hope for the best **:** That Spider-Man was a perfect match and that they would bring him in.

Harry wouldn't have to worry about Spider-Man any longer.

He half-worried for those that Spider-Man would save, but Norman had mentioned that as soon as a vigilante disappears, another pops up in his place. New York City should have nothing to worry about. Another hero would come. Maybe the Goblin would fill his place.

Not Harry, but someone else in his place.

Harry couldn't see himself doing that. He would be putting Peter at risk, the exact reason he was constantly mad at Spider-Man. He put a target on Peter's back for villains without giving a second thought to it. He hated how he refused to see it. That it was okay because _'he loved him.'_ God. Harry wanted to punch him again. 

He sighed and glanced at his phone. His lock screen of Peter brought a soft smile to his face. No matter the situation, he knew one thing **:** Peter brought light into his life and Harry would do anything to keep his sunshine alive.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

_P: That's okay!! I'll catch you tomorrow._

_P: I love you so much._

_P: I can't wait until school is over and we can spend our entire lives together._

_P: No interruptions._

Harry smiled softly. He felt bad for questioning Peter, even if he never vocalized it. 

_H: Me too._

But he knew if any of it was true, he would need to live with it. He would live with fighting with Spider-Man for Peter's attention. He would do anything just to keep Peter in his arms.

\-----

Harry's worries, which kept him sleepless after his interaction with Spider-Man, faded the next day as he came home from the lab to see Pete sprawled on the floor reading a book waiting patiently. Harry was pleasantly surprised to see Peter, especially since Peter has seemed awkwardly tense the past couple of months whenever Norman was home.

"I didn't expect you here," He sat down by Peter.

Peter scooted himself closer and onto Harry's lap. "I figured it would be easier if I just came over and waited for you to get off of work then trying to make plans now." Peter suddenly realized that he may have committed a felony by breaking and entering the Osborn penthouse. Plus, this wasn't one of his most well-thought out plans. What if Harry had a bad day and didn't want to see him. He sat up quickly. "I should've asked --"

Harry put his hand on Peter's chest, stopping him from sitting up any further.

"No, you just made my day." He leaned down and softly kissed Peter. Work was exhausting. Because of the surprise Spider-Man interaction, Norman told Harry that they could start human trials now rather than at the start of summer. Harry was sore after vital testings, blood samples and muscle biopsies. The next step was making sure that his body wasn't going to react badly with Spider-Man's blood. That the scientists wouldn't be injecting a serum that could potentially kill Harry. Which, Harry guessed, was a good thing after all. Norman told Harry that they wouldn't start him on the new drug until after the muscle biopsies come back with positive reactions of either stabilizing or regrowth. But there wasn't a definitive timeline. That exhausted Harry more. "It's been a long day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry hesitated, knowing he wasn't supposed to talk about the serum with anybody outside the lab. But it wasn't like Peter was going to go around and talk about it with anyone else. "We're going to change my ... treatment. So we had to do a bunch of vital testings again."

"Is that ... a good change?" Peter asked.

"I think so," Harry said softly, running his fingers through Peter's hair. "They really think this could work. They still need time, though. I had a few muscle biopsies today and they're going to test it out --"

Peter quickly pulled himself off of Harry. "You should've told me."

"I mean I just found out today --"

"No, asshole," Peter laughed, wanting to playfully shove Harry but keeping his hands to himself. "I shouldn't be on you. You had surgery --"

"Biopsies," Harry corrected.

"Still," Peter rolled his eyes. "I shouldn't be lying on you."

"Whatever," Harry laughed, shoving Peter without any reserves. Peter ready to push Harry back, stopping all force as soon as his hand touched Harry's arm. Harry rolled his eyes. "Do it. I'm tough."

"Where did you get your biopsies?"

Harry hesitated before pointing to his right upper thigh ... then to his left upper thigh, then pointing to spots on his calves. Then bringing his hand up, to point to a spot slightly below where Peter's hand rested on his arm. "And another on the other arm."

"They took a lot."

"They wanted a lot of data."

Peter nodded softly before gently moving his hand down Harry's arm, careful of the incision spot. "I really meant what I said yesterday."

Harry studied Peter for a moment, trying to remember what he said. "That ... I looked good yesterday?"

"No -- well, yes," Peter smiled. "I mean, I really can't wait until this is us, everyday of our lives. That we can come home from class or work or whatever and just be us. No parentals or curfews. And no more hour commutes to see each other."

"If traffic's light, it's a good 30 minute drive to Queens," Harry joked.

"I'd kill for a 30 minute ride," Peter sighed.

"I mean, we _can do that_ \-- "

"That's not what I meant," Peter laughed, shoving Harry.

"Ow."

"Shit, sorry." He leaned in to press an apologetic, soft kiss against Harry's forehead.

"Boys," Norman cleared his throat as he entered the den. He wasn't expecting to hear multiple voices in the penthouse. Harry had just left the lab not to long ago and wouldn't have enough time to invite Peter over. "I'm ordering in for supper. Any requests?"

Peter shifted his weight. He had planned to ask Harry to go out for dinner, but after Harry's busy day, he was probably too physically exhausted to go out, even if he wouldn't admit it. "I think I should -- "

"I've been craving good greasy pizza," Harry said, his hand on Peter's chest, keeping him grounded. "What you think, Pete?"

"That ... or some good pork dumplings," Peter said, relaxing under Harry's hand. He realized that maybe Harry's noticed how uneasy he has been around Norman.

"Oh, I take that back," Harry said. "Lo mein and pot stickers."

Norman opened his mouth to question the amount of grease the boys were requesting but quickly changed his mood, remembering Harry's afternoon. "Alright. Vegetable or chicken lo mein?"

"Veggie."

"Vegetables, please."

"Alright," Norman said, as he turned his attention to his phone and left the room. As soon as he was out of earshot, Harry leaned toward Peter.

"Hey," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean," Harry shrugged. "You seem like you were ready to leave when dad came in."

"I don't think he likes me."

"He would've kicked you out if he didn't like you," Harry rolled his eyes. He positioned himself so he could lay across Peter's lap, to search for comfort and to act as a weight to keep Peter from leaving. "He probably thinks you're the best thing to happen to me."

Peter ran his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry smiled and closed his eyes, focusing on Peter's gentle fingertips on his scalp. "You're the best thing to happen to me," Peter said softly, almost inaudible. He bit his lip, thinking about what he had said to Harry. He wanted to spend his life with him, to live life without restrictions, but he would need to tell Harry about Spider-Man. He just needed to find the perfect time.

"Peter," Norman called from the door way of the den. Peter moved his hand from Harry's hair and to the ground awkwardly. "Would you like Bernard to drive you home after supper?"

Harry sat up. "Dad --"

"Harry's had a busy afternoon," Norman continued. "He shouldn't be driving --"

"Dad --"

"And he needs to go to bed early," Norman said, sternly.

"Dad --"

"I'll be okay," Peter said, interrupting Harry's protests. "Uncle Ben used to say that the MTA is good for building character." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Okay," Norman said, starting to leave the room. "Bernard will still be an option, if you change your mind."

Harry pressed a soft kiss against Peter's cheek before whispering. "Like you said, I can't wait until we can live our lives together. No Norman, no restrictions. Just us."

"Just us," Peter smiled, leaning in to kiss Harry.

\---------

Spring break was a breath of fresh air before the school year picked back up and accelerated like a car going downhill with its brakes cut.

Projects were due and more were assigned. Peter and Harry found themselves overwhelmed in work, often congregating in the Osborn den silently working on individual projects. But they knew the stress would end soon ... just as soon as they graduated and summer arrived.

Harry started getting up earlier as he grew more involved in Oscorp, creating a bad habit of running late to first period.

He rushed into Computer Aided Design, quickly setting two coffees beside Peter, before rushing the other to Mr. Greenwich. Even without the coffee, Harry would still be running late. At least the bribe acted as a way to keep the tardies off the record. 

"What did I miss?" Harry whispered under the morning announcements read over the intercom.

"Shush," Peter pressed his hand against Harry's chest as he tried to focus on Tiny McKeever's voice over the speaker.

" --sh Thompson and Liz Allen. Vanna Smith and Charlie Murphy. Peter Parker and Harry Osborn. Jessie Tomas and Ali Abrahamian. Remember to vote through your student portal. Votes are only counted once and must be sent by _next_ Friday. Juniors, please remember to stop by your class advisor tomorrow to discuss your senior schedule. Sophomores, get ready. You'll be doing that on Thursday --"

"I can't believe it," Peter whispered before smacking Harry's chest again. Harder than what Harry was expecting.

"That underclassmen already are scheduling their life without us?" Harry whispered as he rubbed his chest.

"What? No," Peter laughed. "That your dumb plan worked."

"Of course it did," Harry smirked as he took a sip of his coffee. "Remind me of my dumb plan."

"We're candidates for prom royalty."

"No shit."

"I guess your sign worked," Peter smiled. "It sounds like they got rid of the titles in general. Tiny stressed the fact that it's 'royalty candidates', not 'king and queen candidates'."

Harry stopped to remember whose names he heard. "I don't think we're going to win."

"Because of Vanna?" Peter asked. "I think Liz and Flash give us more competition than she does."

"No. I mean Jessie and Ali," Harry laughed. "How can we win against two cheerleaders? You've seen them."

"I think we're cuter."

"You're optimistic," Harry smirked as he glanced at Mr. Greenwich before sneaking his phone under the desk.

"What are you doing?"

"Campaigning."

"For us?"

Harry turned around his phone to show Peter the image he had posted on Instagram with the caption ' _#PROMKINGS'._

Peter rolled his eyes. "You gotta do more than that." He snuck his phone out and slipped it under the desk. "I'll repost it."

"Attaboy," Harry grinned as he switched apps to post on Twitter. They had a little over two weeks to get their names out there. Harry might put up another make-shift sign, just to remind people to vote. He might put a little more effort into the sign this time.

Harry didn't really care about prom in general. But he loved going out with Peter and loved the idea of seeing Peter dressed up. And the way Peter lit up after hearing their names, hitting Harry excitedly, made Harry want to win this more. Plus, he knew his dad had a meeting out of town that weekend and they could convince Aunt May to let Peter stay the night. Earning the title prom kings would be the cherry on top.

Harry had to make sure that they were going to win.


	36. 'We have work to do.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so long!! It didn't feel right to break it up and when I tried to shorten it, it felt awkward. So y'all are stuck with this monster length of a chapter.

Harry went downtown to get his hair styled professionally.

Peter spent more time than he'd like to admit (20 minutes) to get his hair to lay the right way without looking like he tried too hard.

Harry picked out his favorite black suit, with the finishing touch of a dark blue tie.

Peter had planned on wearing an old suit that belong to Uncle Ben, but when he tried it on a few weeks ago, it was way too big for him. Uncle Ben had broad shoulders, Peter was slender. The ill-fitting suit was the turning point for Peter, allowing Harry to _rent_ him a suit. Harry sighed, as he wanted Peter to keep the suit but knew Peter would complain about Harry spending his (dad's) money on him. Peter was going to wear Uncle Ben's black tie. It may be old, but it still looked nice. The dark suit was tailored to Peter. It had a hint of blue, reminding Peter of the Spider-Man suit ... which was staying home for the night. Peter promised himself that he wouldn't even go out during the day so he could turn his focus entirely to Harry. Something he needed to do more often.

Harry grabbed the boutonnieres out of the fridge. He had picked them up the day before at the flower shop. Harry protested the white rose the florist kept suggesting. ("Are you sure? Your girlfriend would love this on you." "If I had one, I'm sure she would. But my boyfriend let me have free rein over the boutonnieres, and I'd love to have white freesias.") Harry considered pinning his on now, but Aunt May probably was wanting to get pictures of the boys pinning the flowers on each other. Harry set the flowers on the counter, remembering to take the serum before leaving the penthouse. He reached on the counter to grab the pill bottle and took out one small green pill. He slipped it in his mouth and followed it with a glass of water before grabbing his keys and the boutonnieres and heading out.

Peter stood in front of the mirror awkwardly fixing his tie every couple of minutes. He knew it was fine, but he wanted it to be perfect. It was _prom._ And they were up for prom royalty. Everything had to be perfect. And Peter promised himself he wasn't going to screw that up. No matter how often his spider-sense went off or what villains decide to crash Midtown's senior prom. Was there a chance that a villain could crash the prom? Anxiety started to creep up on Peter, but the echo of the doorbell and Aunt May's calls chased the feeling away.

Peter rushed down the stairs, stopping midway as he admired his boyfriend standing in his entryway. "Dude."  

"What?" Harry asked, suddenly concerned. He looked down his suit. "Did I spill something?"

"No," Peter chuckled as he walked down the steps and gently wrapped his arm around Harry's waist. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," He kissed Peter before leaning back to admire Peter. "I really like the tie."

Peter smiled, knowing Harry truly meant that he liked it and wasn't saying it for the sentiment. He leaned in for another kiss before being interrupted by the flash of a camera going off. The two glanced toward the kitchen to see Aunt May guilty of attempting to sneak photos. "I don't know how to turn the flash off," she admitted. 

"There's a setting for that," Peter said, gesturing for her to turn the dial. After a few moments of May searching for the icon, Peter left Harry's side to help his aunt before turning back to Harry for a few pictures. Like Harry thought, May wanted to get pictures of boutonniere pinning. And of the two on the stairs. And the two outside on the porch. "Do you want a trademark awkward prom photo, too?"

"Yes!" Harry grinned as he stepped back on the next step. He awkwardly put his hands on Peter's waist. "I call being the big spoon." 

Peter rolled his eyes and turned around, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck. "I wasn't talking to you," he teased.

"You should've specified. You got my hopes up," Harry smiled as he leaned down slightly to peck Peter on the lips. For once, Harry had a slight height advantage over Peter. And he was going to enjoy every second of it he could. The camera's shutter closing took Peter's attention away from Harry and back to Aunt May.

"You boys should head off," May said, taking a final glance at the photos, making sure they weren't blurry. "Don't want to keep your friends waiting."

"Right," Peter nodded. He almost forgot they had dinner reservations with the gang. He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him down the stairs to the car.

"You boys better behave," May said. "Harry, is Bernard driving you guys home?"

"No, I promised Peter I was going to be DD," Harry smiled as Peter playfully smacked his arm. "But he said he would be on-call in case mischief finds our way."

"It better not," May warned. "Let me know if my favorite Midtown Science couple wins royalty."

"Will do," Peter smiled. He kissed Aunt May's cheek before slipping into the car. "I'll text you when we get to Harry's."

" _Be_ _safe_ ," May stressed.

"Yeah of course," Peter nodded. "We actually have no plans to drink, scout's honor." Peter never was a boy scout, but he wasn't lying.

"I mean safe sex but that's good to know."

"Oh my God."

The boys met up with their friends at Atlantic Grill. It took all of Harry's sanity to convince Flash Thompson that there were better options than the Cheesecake Factory, especially places that were in Midtown and local. It took a long table to fit everyone (Peter and Harry, Flash and Liz, Gwen and her date Eddie, Seymour O'Reilly and Polly McKenna, Tiny McKeever and Kyler Thomas), but Harry had made reservations a head of time to ensure a spot for them.

At one point, Peter look up from his menu to glance at his friends. _His friends._ It only took four years to achieve a friend group that was large enough to have to reserve a table. Peter sighed happily.

"Hey," Harry elbowed Peter. "If you're having a hard time deciding, we can get two sushi rolls and split."

"Uh," Peter glanced back at the menu, a little embarrassed that he was caught admiring his friends. "Yeah, actually. Saigon Delight?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking Golden Roll, too."

"Sweet."

"Fries?"

"Please."

Despite Flash wanting to rent a limo, it just seemed more practical if the group took different cars to prom if they weren't going to the same place afterward. 

The prom's theme was Great Gatsby and to the boys, it looked like the committee may borrowed a few decorations from fall homecoming. And as cheesy as Peter and Harry thought the theme was, the gym looked amazing. The soft glow fairie lights lit the gym in a pseudo-romantic way. The committee even set up a soft green light by the stage. The DJ had started the night with Frank Sinatra. Peter half-hoped they weren't going to play jazz all night. He didn't mind it, that just meant a lot of close dancing with Harry (which he'd loved to do), but if they came to a high school dance, he expected "to bust a move," as he told Harry he was going to do.

"It's like we traveled back in time," Harry said.

"Minus the racism and the homophobia," Peter suggested.

"Well ... that depends on who wins royalty," Harry smirked, as he wrapped his arms around Peter's waist.

"Hare."

"I'm just kidding," Harry laughed. "Mostly." He took Peter's hands in his as he pulled him to the dance floor. Peter rolled his eyes, as they joined only a handful of people who were already dancing. If he was with anybody else, or especially by himself, he'd avoid the dance floor until a bop came on and would join the hyped crowd on the dance floor, but with Harry he'd fight through the embarrassed feeling and enjoy Sinatra's smooth voice. Harry wrapped his arms back around Peter's waist, encouraging him to stop and sway with him. "Hey, did I tell you the good news?"

"Please tell me you didn't hack the voting system."

"No, the IT club told me they wouldn't help me." Peter rolled his eyes at Harry's comment. "I'm actually being serious here."

"Okay, so tell me."

"I've been on the new treatment for three weeks, no issues," Harry grinned. "No bad side effects, no throwing up at three in the morning. Pete, I think we finally found the one."

"Harry, that's amazing!" Peter kissed Harry. "Oh my god, that's great to hear." Peter hated when Harry complained of a muscle ache, because he knew he couldn't do anything to help. A few aspirins could numb the pain, Harry always wanting to take more than he should, but Peter always talked him out of it. Peter knew if Harry was complaining, that he was really hurting ... which made Peter worry that Harry was in pain all the time. He didn't have the heart to ask, he'd almost hate to know that he's been dragging Harry around New York City while he was suffering. Peter made a mental note to have plenty of rests during the dance tonight, even if Harry says he's doing alright. Peter kissed Harry again. "Today is just filled with good news."

"You've had other good news today?"

"The Mets won their third game in a row and I got a full ride to City Tech," Peter shrugged. "And I'm hoping to hear more good news tonight, when they announce the royalty."

Harry stopped swaying. "Are you going to City Tech?"

"I ... I think I'm going to," Peter nodded.

"What happened to Columbia?"

"I haven't heard back yet," Peter said softly. "And it's getting too close to the end of the semester to keep holding out for them."

"Give them a little longer," Harry encouraged. He wanted to spend more time with Peter, and sharing classes and the campus with Peter would give them more time together. "I was kind of hoping I could pull you for my roommate."

"You'd think they'd have rules about that," Peter chuckled. "I'll hold out."

 _"I am_ proud of you," Harry whispered, pressing a soft kiss against Peter's forehead. Starting to sway again. "For that full ride. You deserve it."

"Thank you," Peter whispered back, pulling Harry in closer. He knew that they were both hoping on Columbia, Harry's been hinting at it all semester, but until Peter can secure most of the tuition covered, it looked more like a dream than a reality.

"And Brooklyn's like 15 minute closer," Harry smiled. "So there's your 30 minute ride."

"I thought _you_ were my 30 minute ride tonight," Peter grinned, pressing a soft kiss against Harry's jaw.

"Mr. Parker, Mr. Osborn," A tired voice sighed behind him. They turned to see Mr. Greenwich, who looked like he was regretting chaperoning. "Please keep PDA to a minimum tonight. I'd hate to kick you guys out before royalty is announced."

Together, both boys extended their arms and took a large step back, allowing three feet of space in between them.

"You know what I mean," Mr. Greenwich sighed. These past few weeks have been hard on him, but he hated to admit that Peter and Harry were some of his favorite students. "Keep the ... kissing to a minimum."

"It's the Sinatra, Mr. Greenwich," Harry said, putting his hand over his heart. "It brings out the romantic in me."

"I'd believe you if I didn't see you guys every day in homeroom," Mr. Greenwich rubbed the bridge of his nose before walking away from the boys. Peter laughed, as he leaned in to give Harry another kiss before he felt another arm on his shoulder.

"C'mon love birds, they're starting to do some dumb line dances," Flash pushed them further into the dance floor as Sinatra faded out. Peter laughed as he reached past Flash and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him in for one last kiss before 'Cupid Shuffle' faded in and others poured on to the dance floor.

\---------

They boys didn't go home empty handed.

They left with small gold crown enamel pins, as did the rest of the royalty candidates except for the Prom Queens Jessie Thomas and Ali Abrahamian who won Daisy tiaras. Peter and Harry were good sports. Jessie and Ali were really cute. And it was hard to beat cheerleaders in nearly everything. 

"I should've worn a dress," Harry teased as he lead Peter inside of Oscorp. "A two-piece prom dress would've stunned them all."

"They voted two weeks ago," Peter smirked, as he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist as they stopped and waited for the elevator. "Your attire wouldn't change the vote."

"It could've," Harry pouted. Peter leaned in and kissed his jaw.

"It would turn me on, though," Peter mumbled against Harry's skin.

"You into that?" Harry grinned as he pulled Peter back into the open elevator.

"I'm into _you_." Peter clarified as he took the initiative to press the penthouse button for Harry. "And I'd know you find the perfect dress and you'd look way better than Ali and Jessie did."

"Whoa, that's a big assumption," Harry laughed. "You saw them. They were gorgeous tonight."

"God they were," Peter said. "I mean we're cute, right?"

"I bet if we bug Tiny enough next week, he'll tell us who were runners up," Harry pulled Peter closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I bet it was us."

Peter gently touched the enamel pin on Harry's suit's lapel. "You're my king. You don't need a crown for that."

Harry smiled, softly kissing Peter. The soft ding of the elevator suggested that they had arrived at their destination. Without pulling away, Harry slowly lead Peter out of the elevator and into the hallway. He leaned against the door, fumbling with the door knob. He eventually got the door open and pulled Peter inside the penthouse. "So we got the whole place to ourselves," Harry reminded Peter as he softly placed a kiss against Peter's jaw.

"And what are we going to do about that," Peter joked. He knew what they were going to do. They've planned this for a while. He ran his hands over Harry's chest, slipping it under his suit jacket, attempting to take it off. 

"I was hoping to go to sleep," Harry smirked, as he helped shake off his suit jacket. "Did you have something better in mind?"

"Yeah," Peter said as he started to unbutton Harry's shirt. "Someone promised me a 30 minute ride earlier."

"I mean I can drive you home if you want," Harry joked. "But you told Aunt May you were staying here."

"Shit, I need to text Aunt May," Peter said, pressing a quick kiss on Harry's jaw before stepping away and pulling out his phone. Harry laughed as picked his jacket off the floor and carefully set it over the couch. As much as he wanted Peter to tear his clothes off, these were expensive and his favorite. And as much as he'd like to rip the clothes off of Peter, he was _supposed_ to return those. As Peter explained to Aunt May over text that they did not win prom royalty, Harry helped Peter out of his suit jacket, carefully placing it by his. He wrapped his arms around Peter's waist and set his chin on his shoulder, patiently waiting as Peter finished his conversation. Peter set his phone on the counter and leaned into his boyfriend, placing his hands on top of Harry's, taking in the calm moment between the two.

"Hey," Harry whispered, pressing a soft kiss on Peter's neck. "Can I fuck you yet?"

"God, yes," Peter laughed as he turned around to kiss Harry. Harry smirked as he lead Peter down the hallway and into his room. He almost shut the door, until he remembered that they were home alone. That his dad was off on a business trip and wasn't planning on being home until Sunday evening. He carefully untied Peter's tie, breaking apart from the kiss to gently set it on his dresser. He knew how much it meant to Peter and he wasn't going to be rough with it. Harry turned his attention back to Peter, unbuttoning his shirt and exposed his bare chest. He slowly ran his hands up Peter's chest, resting them on his shoulders.

"You are so beautiful," he sighed softly, bringing one hand to trace Peter's jawline. He leaned in to kiss Peter's jaw, moving his hands to push off his shirt, tossing it aside. He moved his hands down to unbuckle Peter's belt and pull down his pants.

"I love you," Peter whispered, pressing a soft kiss against Harry's lips as he unbuttoned Harry's shirt. Harry removed his pants, helping speed things along.

As soon as Harry's clothes hit the floor, Peter pushed him onto the bed, quickly filling the space between his legs. He pressed a soft kiss against Harry's collarbone before moving up to his lips. Harry leaned in, deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms around Peter's waist. He could feel Peter growing eager as he started to grind his hips into Harry's. Harry gasped as he felt Peter's hard dick against his. Peter quickly leaned up off of Harry.

"Are you okay?" After their last few sex attempts resulted in asthma-like attacks, Peter was constantly worried about Harry's health. He wanted to make sure that he was going to be okay and he wasn't going to brush off any troubles Harry was having just because he was receiving pleasure.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry confirmed as he leaned up to press a quick kiss against Peter's lips. "You just surprised me."

"You doing okay so far?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Like I said, I think it's the new medicine. I promise you, I'll let you know if something's going wrong." They had talked previously about when to stop and if Harry rapidly slapped Peter's arm, then chances are he needs a breather. But Harry felt more than okay, he felt great. Harry moved his hands slightly down to trace the edge of Peter's underwear, slipping his fingers under the hem and pulled them down. As soon as they were down far enough, he let them go and let Peter slip them off. He moved his hands off of Peter and slipped off his underwear, kicking them off. He leaned up to kiss Peter once more before Peter sat up and reached to Harry's side table.

"The stuff's over here, right?" Peter asked, as he fumbled to open the drawer. He dug around before he found a condom and the lube, well hidden in the back of the drawer. He set the lube aside, turning his attention back to Harry. Peter pressed a soft kiss against his lips and gently wrapped his hand around Harry's cock. Peter gave it a soft stroke before letting go to open the condom.

"Hey, wait," Harry said softly. "I ... want you inside of me."

"Are you sure?" They have talked about this for a while. They joked about Peter riding Harry -- even less than ten minutes ago they were joking. Peter was surprised that Harry was wanting to change now.

"Absolutely," Harry said, with a large grin and without hesitation. "I almost forgot how much I love it when you try to break my pelvis."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I'm going to kinkshame you later," Peter smiled, pressing a soft kiss against Harry before leaning back and slipping the condom on himself. Harry repositioned himself, sitting up slightly, bending his legs for Peter. Peter reached for the lube, applying some to his fingers. He looked at Harry, who gave him a soft nod. Peter leaned back down, pressing another soft kiss against Harry as he eased a finger into Harry. Harry softly moaned, leaning back into the pillow. "Is this okay?"

Harry nodded. "Keep going."

Peter kissed Harry again as he worked a second finger into Harry. He moved his kisses to Harry's neck, working in a third finger. He pressed kisses against Harry's jawline, softly nipping at his skin. Soon, Peter slowly removed his fingers and slowly eased his cock into Harry. Harry gripped Peter's shoulders as he moaned. His body worked with Peter, helping him find his way deeper into Harry. Peter moaned, pausing his movements to check on Harry. "You good?"

"So good," Harry breathed. He moved one hand from Peter's shoulder to tangle in the back of his hair. Peter kissed Harry once more before his lips found their home in the crook of his neck. He slowly started to move, slightly pulling out of Harry before pushing himself back in -- further. As Harry's tone melted from surprised into pleasure, Peter picked up the pace. Harry gripped Peter's shoulder, mentally trying to remind himself not to dig his fingernails into Peter's skin. His hips moved with Peter's thrusts, searching for the pressure he craved. "Harder," he tried to demand, but his order came out as a plea. He loosened his fingers in Peter's hair before tangling them again. Maybe this was the tone he needed. "Please go harder."

Peter hesitated a moment before moving his hips harder, thrusting himself further into Harry. 

Harry moved one of his hands from Peter's back and gently cupped his jaw. "I love you," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss onto Peter's chin.

"I love you, too," Peter leaned in to kiss Harry's lips. He never would have imagined this is what his senior prom would've been like, but Peter couldn't be happier.

\--------

Harry smiled as he woke up in Peter's arms. It was one of the few times he felt completely safe. Nothing could hurt him while Peter was holding him. Everything was going to be alright, as long as he stayed in his arms.

"Harry!" A voice called from the kitchen.

"Shit," Harry mumbled as he scrambled out of bed. He quickly put on his briefs and slipped on a long sleeve shirt as he went out to see what his dad wanted. "Hey dad," he said, slightly awkwardly. "I thought you were supposed to be home after three?"

"Change of plans," Norman said as he tossed a small orange ball toward Harry. Harry caught it, realizing it wasn't what it appeared.

"What is it?" Harry said, his voice hushed. "Peter's here. We shouldn't have this _here_ \--"

"It's the answer to our _problem_ ," Norman said, extending his hand for the metal orange orb back. "We're using it today. You need to suit up --"

"Did you miss the fact that I said Peter's here?" Harry snapped, wanting to shove the weapon back, but knew better than to treat a weapon carelessly. He gently placed it back in Norman's hand.

"Take him home," Norman retorted. "We have work to do."

"Is this what your meeting was about?" Harry asked quietly. "Did you even leave the city?"

"I had a meeting with a former colleague who developed a formula that could help us," Norman said sternly. "That's all you need to know." Norman pocketed the metal pumpkin-like orb and walked back to the front door. "We're starting at three today. Take Peter home and get some protein in you. Take your serum before you come down to the lab." Harry glanced to the wall clock **:** 12:13 p.m.

"What -- What if I don't want to do this anymore," Harry asked, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. He was having second thoughts. He was getting better and they had plenty of the new serum that they wouldn't need Spider-Man anymore. It wasn't enough to create super soldiers, but it was enough to keep Harry alive ... and Harry wasn't sure if this was about _him_ anymore.

"It's not a matter of what you want, Harry," Norman stated, a little taken back that Harry was backing out. "This is a necessity. He knows our name. We don't know what he would do with that information. He could ruin Oscorp. He could ruin our lives, Harry. We can't give him that power."

Harry hesitated before nodded. "I understand."

"Good," Norman walked back to Harry and pressed a soft kiss against the top of his head. "Go get ready. I'll see you at three." He turned around and left the penthouse. Harry sighed deeply before going back to his bedroom, finding a half-awake Peter, rolled up like a burrito in Harry's comforter.

"Hey," Peter grinned sleepily. "I heard your dad and I couldn't remember where my clothes were."

"He just left," Harry smiled softly as he climbed back into bed with Peter. He pressed a soft kiss against his skin as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. "I -- I work today. At three. He just sprung it on me."

"That's okay," Peter said. He reached for his phone on the side table before realizing it wasn't there. He actually wasn't too sure where he left it. "What time is it?"

"Noon," Harry said. "Do you want to go out for lunch or make something?"

"Either works for me," Peter said, as he nuzzled back into Harry, closing his eyes. "I just need this for a little longer."

"Me too," Harry whispered.

\-------

New York City seemed busier tonight than it ever has been. Spider-Man alone has stopped two bank heists and three car thefts all within a five-block radius. Peter almost didn't have enough time to catch his breath before his spider-sense went off again, followed by the distant sound of police sirens. Peter sighed as he slipped his mask back on to follow the sirens. He took a step off the edge of the building, swinging toward the siren. But something just didn't feel right. His Spider-sense was still going off, and going off stronger. As if it was warning him.

Spider-Man stopped at the next building. Something was off. He almost couldn't focus on anything except for finding the source of his unease.

_Tink. tink. tink._

Spider-Man looked down at his feet, wide-eyed at the sudden orb rolled to a stop in between his stance. He quickly jumped, webbing an adjacent building, only to hear the orb explode. He barely missed being shocked. He glanced around before locating the Goblin. "Honestly, I'm not shocked that it's you."

"Do you always make jokes in serious situations?"

"I mean, kind of," Spider-Man shrugged, standing light on his feet. He remembered the last time he was too comfy around the Goblin. Spider-Man was ready to evacuate the ground, in case there was a trap. "It's how I cope with everything **:** natural disasters, anxiety attacks, men cosplaying as swamp monsters. Y'know. The usual."

"How about physical pain?"

"I think we can skip the first date questions," Spider-Man said as he quickly swung from his building to another. "If you're here for another blood donation, you should probably talk to your doctor about _safer_ transplants. Honestly, Red Cross exists for a reason."

"Are you saying that your blood's not safe?"

"Who knows," Spider-Man shrugged. "It's not for you to find out."

("Don't let him get into your mind, Harry. The trials were positive.")

The Goblin reached up and touched his communication device, to turn it off, only to remember that Norman had said he was going to change the device so he couldn't keep turning it off. The Goblin gently pressed the button on his palm, charged electricity through his glove and carefully touched the communication device, short-circuiting it. "Does _he_ know?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Spider-Man asked. Peter was frustrated. Why does Norman assume that he's putting Harry in danger when he's doing the exact same thing. "You accuse me of ruining his life, but _are you_?"

The Goblin grew mad. Harry grew mad. "I'm not the one who suggests that their blood isn't safe. You need to leave him alone."

"I love him," Spider-Man said. "I can't -- I can't leave him. Even if I tried. I couldn't."

"Then let me handle that." Shivers went up Spider-Man's spine as he quickly shot out a web, catching an orb mid-air and quickly releasing the web from his shooter. He swung to a different building, trying to find his best angle against the Goblin. With every orb that the Goblin threw at him, Spider-Man tried his best to quickly change the direction of the orb and throwing it back to the Goblin, all within the few seconds before the orb explodes. 

"Do you have an endless supply of these?" Spider-Man called, stopping on a billboard.

"I have as much as I need," the Goblin said, standing down. Was he ... giving up?

Shivers went down Spider-Man's back.

Nope.

He stood on the balls of his feet, ready to jump away from anything the Goblin threw at him ... but he stood at ease. 

_Beep... Beep. Beep. Beep.beep.beep.beep._

"Shit," Spider-Man said, realizing he fell into a trap. A metal orange orb, slightly smaller than the ones the Goblin has been throwing at him, was placed strategically at the edge of the billboard. He quickly shot a web toward a building. The pumpkin bomb went off, releasing a gray smoke. Spider-Man covered his mouth as he started to reel himself toward the building, but the bomb detonated again with an exploding force, causing Spider-Man to release his web and fall to the walkway of the billboard.

He groaned as he tried to push himself up, suddenly finding his muscles locking up. He coughed, fighting the gray cloud that surrounded him. He wished the mask worked better as a filter, but it allowed the ash and chemicals to find its way to his lungs. He tried to crawl to the support beams, finding a way to escape the smoke. Spider-Man kept coughing -- _Peter kept coughing._ He needed to get out of this fast. He started to feel light-headed. He kept his head low, trying to find escape near the walkway. He tried to lift his arm to shoot a web, but his muscles refused to move with him.

A hand grabbed Spider-Man's arm tightly and pulled him off the walkway and onto the cement rooftop. Spider-Man focused his energy to roll over, meeting the Goblin.

"I'm supposed to bring you in," the Goblin said, grabbing Spider-Man's suit and pulling him up. "Nobody said unharmed." He raised his fist, bringing it down on Spider-Man's face. "I'd kill you, if they'd let me." He punched Spider-Man again. "I'd kill you ... if it wouldn't hurt _him_." He punched him again. "I swear to God, if you _hurt_ him -- get him _sick_. I will murder you." He swung again. "I don't care what they say. I don't care what he'll think of me. I just -- I love him too much for you to take him away --" He swung again. "When will you learn?"

Spider-Man gasped at the slight break from the pain. He could feel his face swelling already. He found it hard to keep the Goblin in focus. "W-what will he think ... w-when I'm gone?"

"I hope he stops thinking about you," the Goblin pushed him back to the ground. "I hope he focuses on school." The Goblin kicked Spider-Man. "I hope he focuses on college." He kicked again, higher. Spider-Man wheezed. He felt a sharp pain in his side. "I hope ... he focuses on his future." He grabbed Spider-Man, dragging him across the rooftop and slammed him into the edge of the building. He grabbed his suit, forcing him to sit up. "He doesn't need you."

"H-he doesn't," Spider-Man repeated. "But I need him. I love _him_." His voice broke at the thought of Peter never seeing Harry again. He couldn't imagine his life without Harry. They've come so far in their relationship -- in their _friendship_. He wasn't sure if he could breathe without Harry.

"I love him, too," The Goblin snapped, bringing his fist back across Spider-Man's cheek. "And that's why I need you gone."

Spider-Man inhaled sharply, flinching at the pain in his side. The Goblin had to have broke a few ribs. He hurt all over. He needed to move. He needed to fight back. But his muscles refused to budge, paralyzed by the smoke. He tried his best to keep his full attention on the Goblin, but his vision blurred in and out of focus. He still had a ringing in his ears from the second blast of the pumpkin bomb. He fought to stay conscious, but it was getting harder as the seconds go by. "What are you -- " he gasped for air, flinching. "-- Going to do?"

"Bring you in," the Goblin grabbed Spider-Man's suit again, pulling him away from the wall and slamming him back in. Spider-Man groaned. "Run a few tests. And we'll see from there."

Spider-Man struggled to stay awake, but closing his eyes felt too comforting. "Why ... are you doing ... this?"

"Because you threaten his safety," The Goblin said softly. "I need him to stay alive." Harry knew the next step of the plan was to take Spider-Man to Oscorp, where his dad planned to run tests on the vigilante. There, Spider-Man would be unmasked. But ... Harry couldn't help but wonder what the man under the mask looks like. Who he has been fighting for Peter's love. He hesitated before reaching at the top of Spider-Man's head and pulled the mask off.

Spider-Man wanted to protest, but he knew Norman knew his identity already. He couldn't do much more than shake his head, so why waste energy to protest verbally? As soon as the cool air touched his cheeks, Peter knew the charade was over. He was no longer Spider-Man, but a high school senior bloodily beaten on a rooftop by his boyfriend's dad. His eyes fluttered shut as soon as the mask was pulled completely off. He could feel himself lose all control of his body. He opened his eyes once more, to see the Goblin quickly remove his helmet and a familiar voice, no longer masked by the helmet, filled his ears.

"Oh my god. Peter!"

Peter felt the cool metal of the Goblin's suit against his cheek as he blacked out.


	37. 'It means a lot to me.'

Peter woke up at 2 in the morning in absolute pain. His sides hurt. His face hurts. His stomach hurts. His ... heart hurts. 

He slowly sat up, realizing he was home in his bed. His vision was better, but still struggling. He glanced to his desk in search for his pain killers, only to realize that the bottle was moved his side table with a glass of water. Did ... Aunt May find him? He opened the bottle and popped two Advils ... followed by two more. He figured that he'd be okay, this is was how much Harry would take and Harry didn't have super powers.

Harry.

_"Oh my god. Peter!"_

Was that Harry last night?

No.

It's been Norman the entire time ... right?

He laid back down on his pillow trying to remember if he actually saw the Goblin's face. He saw the helmet pulled off, but couldn't remember the face behind it. The voice felt way too familiar to be Norman's. It sounded different than what it did behind the mask. It sounded ... like he was afraid. That he was shocked that Spider-Man was Peter. Didn't ... he know? He's been aggressive to Spider-Man the past few months, ever since Spider-Man brought up he had a boyfriend. Spider-Man told Norman -- _the Goblin -_ \- that he loved Harry, and the Goblin would always reply that he loved him, too. 

Did ... Harry think that Spider-Man was talking about Peter?

Has Harry always been the Goblin?

Peter was afraid to know. The Goblin has laid some hard hits on Spider-Man. The Goblin said he was willing to kill Spider-Man, despite whatever ' _he_ ' would think of him.

_"I'm not the one who suggests that their blood isn't safe. You need to leave him alone. ... I swear to God, if you hurt him -- get him sick. I will murder you."_

Harry thought Spider-Man was sleeping with Peter.

Peter sighed.

He should've told Harry.

He should've came clean.

They would've avoided this mess all together.

Even if he was in pain, Peter didn't hold Harry accountable. He was doing what 'they' told him to do. He was passionate, caring about Peter's safety. Worried that Spider-Man was going to hurt him, bring him to danger. He still loved Harry. There was no changing that.

But ... did Harry still love Peter?

Surely. He didn't bring him in, like he said he would. Peter's at home, safe in his own bed. He glanced under the covers, seeing that his Spider-Man uniform was off. Did Harry bring him in, having to explain to Aunt May what happened? Did Aunt May even know he was home? He glanced at his phone to see no frantic phone calls or messages.

Not even a message from Harry.

But he wasn't sure if he'd expect one.

They had promised to be truthful to each other -- and this was the biggest lie to be uncovered. But so was the Goblin.

Peter sighed. Then flinched in pain. He closed his eyes, half-hoping that this was all a dream that he would wake up from in the morning. But the most he could hope for was his bones to start mending, so he didn't have to explain to Aunt May what happened.

\-------

Peter was allowed to skip school Monday.

Aunt May checked on him in the morning. She said Harry had brought Peter home after dark. Harry said that he found Peter when he was running an errand for his dad. He wasn't sure what happened. Aunt May said Harry was scared. "You should let him know that you're okay." Peter gently nodded as Aunt May gently kissed the top of his head. "Get some rest," she told him.

Peter grabbed his phone. No messages from Harry.

_Monday 7:15_

_P: I will always love you._

Peter stared at the screen, waiting for the message in progress bubble.

Soon, the read receipt turned from "delivered" to "read." His heart fluttered, but soon he realized that Harry wasn't going to text back.

Peter felt better on Tuesday, but May told him he could skip school again.

He still was sore. His ribs still hurt when he took a deep breath. Deep purple bruises scattered his face, one on his cheek and another on his jaw bone. It was evident that his nose was fractured or broken as the bags under his eyes were darker and slightly swollen. 

Peter probably could have handled going to school, if Midtown Science was in Queens. The MTA was alright to travel on but with as sore as his body was, being jostled around on a subway wasn't the ideal commute. Peter worked on his engineering thesis from home.

As he went downstairs to see if his pizza rolls were done. They still had a few more minutes in the oven. He turned his attention to his phone, pausing at the lock screen. It was one of his favorite pictures of Harry, one that he took over winter break. Harry stood with his hands in his pockets in Central Park as he glanced toward the cityscape, Oscorp in view behind him. Peter sighed (then flinched) as he pressed the home button to unlock his screen.

Tuesday 13:03

_P: We should talk sometime. Coffee tomorrow?_

Peter cautiously watched. The oven timer went off. He pulled the pizza rolls out of the oven and slipped them onto a plate. He grabbed a soda from the fridge and reached for his phone, noticing that the "delivered" turned to "read" once more. He sighed (and flinched) as he took his stuff and went back up to his room.

On Wednesday, Peter was bombarded with questions.

"Where have you been?"

"What happened to your face?"

"Where's Harry?"

"Are you guys still together?"

Peter just sighed and would answer, "I don't know." He didn't want to talk about it. He hated how alone he felt without Harry to confide to. Maybe he will find Gwen later today, if she doesn't mind lending her ear to him.

Wednesday 8:48

_P: Can we talk?_

_P: Today?_

"Mr. Parker," Mr. Greenwich started before remembering that he was told Peter was beaten up badly on Sunday. He lightened his tone. "Don't forget we have a test on Friday. You might want to pay attention."

"Yes, Mr. Greenwich," He said softly. He kept his phone on the table, unlocked as he watched the "delivered" turn to "read" again.

Friday after school, Peter went to Oscorp.

He hasn't seen Harry all week, and he wouldn't respond to any of his text messages. He knew it wasn't something he should do, but he couldn't help it. He walked straight into Oscorp and to the elevator.

"Excuse me, sir," A woman at the front desk called. "I need to see identification."

"Oh, right," Peter said as he walked back to the front desk. He's gotten used to walking in with Harry or seeing familiar faces at the front desk that he usually never stops. He handed the woman his school ID. She checked it and handed it back to him. "Intern?"

"No, I was going to talk to Harry Osborn," He explained. "He should be --"

"Mr. Osborn said that his son wasn't seeing anybody."

"But I really need to talk to him," Peter explained. "It's important. I've been trying to reach him all week. Please."

She hesitated before lifting the phone and talking quietly. She put the phone down and turned to Peter. "He will be right with you, if you wait over there."

"Thank you," Peter sighed (without flinching). He sat at one of the comfy seats that faced the elevator, waiting to see Harry. The longer he sat there, the more he realized this probably was a bad idea. He wasn't sure how Harry was going to react. Peter wasn't sure how _he_ was going to react. Peter wasn't sure what he was going to say. He half-considered leaving, but knew that the action would send a completely different message than the one that he was trying to convoy to Harry **;** Peter wanted to talk, not run away. 

He waited, to what felt like forever. He glanced at his phone, looking at their text messages.

Saturday 16:37

_H: <photo attachment>_

_P: Did you pay for that hairstyle?_

_H: I feel so attacked right now_

_P: As you should._

_H: Heading your way_

_P: Drive safe!_

Sunday 14:48

_H: You left your crown on the suit_

_H: And your tie on the dresser_

_H: I'll bring them tomorrow_

_P: Thank you!!_

Sunday 16:12

_H: Dad said he wanted to start at 3_

_H: AND WE HAVEN'T STARTED_

_H: AND I'M STARVING HELP_

_P: Take a supper break and I'll come into Manhattan_

_H: I wish._

_H: I'll get postmates or something._

_P: Dude. Pay me and I'll bring you food._

_H: I mean that's what I'm doing_

_H: Except a stranger_

_P: Dude._

Monday 7:15

_P: I will always love you._

Tuesday 13:03

_P: We should talk sometime. Coffee tomorrow?_

Tuesday 21:32

_P: Hey_

Wednesday 8:48

_P: Can we talk?_

_P: Today?_

Wednesday 14:23

_P: Hey_

Wednesday 17:01

_P: I really want to talk sometime_

Wednesday 19:12

_P: Can you please just ... answer me??_

Wednesday 22:59

_P: I'm sorry_

Thursday 9:16

_P: Hey_

Thursday 13:09

_P: Harry please_

Thursday 22:45

_P: I love you, please_

Friday 7:22

_P: Harry please_

Peter sighed. After the texts Peter sent during class Wednesday morning, all of the other texts stayed on "delivered." Peter assumed Harry took his read receipt off. Harry always had his phone and would always check his texts from Peter ... but that was before his secret was out.

_Ding._

Peter glanced up as the elevator opened. Norman walked out, stopping outside of the elevator.

"Peter, we need to talk," He said softly, as he gestured for Peter to follow him down a hallway on the first floor and into a small meeting room. "Peter --"

"Is Harry okay?" Peter interrupted. Norman sighed, as he leaned on one of the chairs. "I'm sorry, I know you probably don't like me but is he okay?"

"I -- I don't know," Norman sighed. "I haven't seen him since Sunday night. He was out ... on an errand for Oscorp and he never came back."

Peter's heart stopped. Norman didn't know he was Spider-Man. Norman didn't know _Peter knew_ about the Green Goblin's identity. Peter and Aunt May were the last people to see Harry before he disappeared. Peter quickly searched his mind for something that could help find Harry. "He still has phone. I've sent texts and he's seen them. I know he's seen them --"

"Has he talked to you?" Norman asked hopefully.

"N-no," Peter said softly. "He's never responded back, but he saw the first couple I've sent before he turned off his read receipts. We could still use this. We can go to the police --"

"I've tried that," Norman said. "I've talked to every precinct in Manhattan and they said they couldn't do anything. That he's 18 and that makes him an adult with agency." Norman sighed softly. "He's just a boy. He can't --" He looked away from Peter, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. "His ... medical condition wasn't enough of a reason for them to consider him a danger to himself since ... all of our medical files were Oscorp studies. They couldn't take it as official paperwork."

"Will ... he be okay?" Peter asked softly. "He said that the new treatment was going well. Will he be okay?"

Norman nodded softly. "I couldn't find the pill bottle on our kitchen counter. He might have taken it. It had enough pills for a few months."

Peter bit his lip. Harry was gone for the long run and Peter didn't know what to do. "We will find him, Norman."

"I hope so," Norman said as he leaned off of the chair to leave. Peter noticed the bags under Norman's eyes, deepened with sorrow and sleeplessness. He wished he could let Harry know how much his dad was missing him. "Hey, I don't know where you got the idea, but I do like you," Norman said softly, ruffling Peter's hair. "You and Harry are good for each other."

Peter nodded softly. He just wished he could find Harry to prove that.

He just wished he could have Harry in his arms again.

He just wished everything was normal again.

Sunday morning, Peter received a text.

Sunday 07:13

_N. Osborn: Received a phone call this morning. Harry's safe._

_P: Is he home?_

_P: Can I come over?_

_P: I need to talk with him._

_P: Please._

_N. Osborn: He's not coming home for a while. Just know that he is safe._

_P: Where is he?_

Sunday 14:02

_N. Osborn: At his grandmother's._

_P: Thank you._

Peter sighed softly. At least he knew he wasn't going to be in any danger. Peter tried to remember where Grandma Osborn lived. He remembered that Harry's grandparents used to live in the city, but were retired before Harry was born. He remembered Harry spending a few weekends with them, maybe they lived upstate? He didn't think they lived in New Jersey by the amount of times Harry shit-talked New Jersey. Knowing the Osborns, they could've lived in California, too. Peter thought that Harry didn't like his grandfather, that Amberson Osborn was strict, mean and old-fashioned, but maybe dealing with his grandfather's homophobic comments would be easier than talking with Peter. At least, Rosemund Osborn was sweet and kind ... or she was compared to Amberson.

Peter stood quietly. He knew he should take the information as it was, and just wait until Harry came back. That's all he really could do. He glanced at his phone before sending a text to Harry.

Sunday 14:04

_P: I'm glad your safe._

Peter watched as the text in progress bubble popped up. It stayed on the screen for about ten seconds before disappearing. Peter sighed, locking his phone and tossing it aside. He needed to get his attention off his broken heart.

\------

Peter didn't hear back from Harry until May 14.

Almost three weeks since prom night. Three weeks since they uncovered their secrets.

Aunt May still didn't know what happened. She knew Harry disappeared after he found Peter beat up in an alley in Manhattan. He had brought Peter home and stayed with him until Aunt May got home from work. He had dressed Peter's wounds, tracking his vitals. Aunt May told him he could stay the night and he accepted. He was going to sleep on their couch, but by the time Aunt May got up, he was gone.

Aunt May had wondered if Norman was abusive. "Did you ever see any unexplained bruises on Harry? Did his behavior change around his dad?" Peter would tell her no, that from what he could tell, Norman truly cared about Harry. Aunt May would study Peter before asking, "Did Norman ever hit _you_?" Peter would sigh and shake his head no. His bruises were his own fault. His bruises from that night have healed. His nose had a slight bump on the bridge from where it broke, but May told him it was unnoticeable. 

Peter was back on the streets as Spider-Man. It took him a little longer than normal after a bad beating. The Goblin -- _Harry_ \-- hit him pretty hard. The emotions took a toll on him, too.

And this Sunday marked the first full week Spider-Man was back in action. Peter kept his days short, as swinging at night and stopping at buildings reminded him too much of _that night_. But soon, summer will take set and he can stay out much later without memories hitting him.

He walked in the house and started up stairs before Aunt May called him. "Peter! Something came for you when we were out." Peter stopped on the stairs.

"From who?"

"Doesn't say." He walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen. "I wish Jameson didn't want photographs from you today," Aunt May sighed. "It's your birthday. You shouldn't have to be working."

"Spider-Man's swinging, again," Peter shrugged as May handed him a red-wrapped box. "He just has bad timing, I guess."

"He seems alright," May said softly. "Keeping the city safe." She nodded toward the present. "Are you going to open it or just hold it?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter said. He carefully unwrapped the box, lifting the top off.

His heart stopped.

In the box was his prom suit, neatly folded with his enamel crown pin on the lapel. The almost pure white button up was new, fastened with Uncle Ben's tie. Peter sighed softly as he picked up the small envelope that laid on top of the suit's pocket. He pulled out the small card, tearing up at the familiar handwriting.

_Please stay safe._

_x H_

He turned around to hug Aunt May, burying his head into her shoulder. She held him tight, rubbing his back for comfort.

"He's such an asshole," Peter murmured after a few minutes.

"Peter."

"He told me that he wasn't going to buy it for prom."

"Peter," She said softer this time, more comforting than scolding.

"I miss him," his voice hardly louder than a whisper.

"I know, Peter," She pressed a gentle kiss on the top of his head. "He'll be back soon." She sighed softly as she ruffled his hair. "Come on. Let's cut into your cake."

\------

Peter hoped that Harry would be back for graduation.

They called his name for the diploma, acknowledging that he wasn't able to pick it up. Peter was surprised that Harry was able to graduate. Tiny McKeever told Peter later that he heard in the office that Harry finished a lot of his work remotely.

Peter hoped that Harry would come back in June, but the month came and went.

Peter hoped Harry would be back by July.

But when he took photos for the Oscorp expansion story, Norman barely made eye contact with Peter. Peter wanted to talk with him, but knew he wouldn't be able to form the words he wanted to say. As the event came to an end, and before Peter had to drop the photos off at the Bugle, Peter finally found his way to Norman. "Hey," Peter softly spoke, pulling a small box from his pocket handing it to Norman. "For Harry -- for Tuesday." Norman looked at the box and nodded, putting it into his pocket.

"I'll get this mailed off," Norman said. "It will get there in time."

"Thank you," Peter said, before heading off. He had a deadline to meet, and if Jameson knew he was wasting time delivering presents, he'd be furious.

By the time August arrived, Peter wasn't sure if Harry was going to come back to New York.

Harry was accepted into almost all of the Ivy League schools. He had plenty of opportunities to continue his education away from Peter. The more Peter thought about it, the more he remembered Harry playing with the idea of Harvard.

Peter knew one thing about this year. He was going to use his famous undivided attention on his education. And on spending time with Aunt May. And saving New York City from its daily crimes. 

Peter sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

He left his dorm room and quickly rushed to class. He was running late, but morning classes are tough. He had at least five alarms set, just so he could make this 9 a.m. class. He tried to remember how he did this everyday to attend a school in a different borough just a few months ago. He could hardly make it to his first class of college on time.

The large lecture hall was almost intimidating. Peter hesitated before slipping into a nearly empty row. He set his bag on the empty seat next to him, attempting to keep his table space free.

He dug into his bag to pull out his notebook that he had specifically set aside for organic chemistry when he felt a presence beside him. He heard a book set on the table beside him. He pulled out his notebook, setting it in front of him, realizing that the person was going to sit right next to him, even if the entire row was empty.

"Hey," Peter said softly, pulling his textbook out of his bag. The guy was too busy setting up his stuff to hear Peter. Peter glanced at the book the guy set down. A yellow sticky note stuck out two-thirds through the book. The spine was well-worn with love. "Kaddish," Peter said, a little louder. "That's -- uh -- one of my favorite collection of his poems."

"Yeah, mine too," the guy said softly, sitting down in his chair. He glanced toward Peter before turning his attention back to his laptop, opening a document for notes. "I've read it twice this summer. It means a lot to me."

Peter sat quietly for a moment, taking the beauty of his classmate in. His sun-kissed skin glowed with radiance. His voice, gentle and soft, carried tones of insomnia. His light brown hair tossed somewhere between bed-head and salon blowout, either way it was freshly cut, the sides short and the top a little long.His blue eyes pierced through Peter in that split-second glance. Peter almost hated how long it took him to recognize him, but his quick glance made Peter's heart flutter with hope. "Harry."

Harry nodded gently. "I'm glad you came to Columbia."

"Full-ride," Peter said softly.

"I told you." 

Peter hesitated, studying Harry as he tried to decide if he could fall back in place with his boyfriend ... or if this man sitting next to him was a stranger. "Where have you been?" His voice was hardly louder than a whisper.

"Italy," Harry's voice matched Peter's. He refused to look at Peter, only taking small glances toward him. He played with the leather bracelet around his wrist -- the one Peter bought him for his birthday, the one Peter had Norman mailed to him.

Peter knew they needed to do more than small talk. They had to have a full conversation about everything, about that night, _about them._ Peter opened his mouth to talk, but soon the professor's voice boomed over the class.

"Welcome to Organic Chemistry. We're going to skip over pleasantries, introductions and ice breakers **.** We have a lot to cover this semester, and we need to start off with the syllabus. Please refrain from talking while I quickly go over this. Raise your hand if you have any questions. If we can go through this smoothly, we can leave a little early and that will make both you all and I so happy." 

The professor explained the class schedule, classes Monday through Wednesday and labs on Thursday and Friday. Peter tried his best to pay attention, but all he wanted to do was grab Harry's hand and pull him out of class to talk. At least, he didn't have another class until 11. He could try to talk with him before his next class.

As soon as the professor dismissed them, Peter shoved his notebook in his bag. "Hey so, I was wondering -- " He glanced to Harry, who had already packed up and left Peter. He watched as he hurried down the stairs and out the door. Peter sighed. He was half-glad that others were rushing out, too, so it didn't look like Peter was rejected. He picked up his textbook. A yellow note stuck out from the top of the book. Peter pulled it out and softly smiled.

_We should talk. About ~~spider.~~   ~~that night.~~  being us again. Coffee tonight?_

_x H_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for being on this journey with me! I've been wanting to write since like 2012. Fun fact: I had originally planned for it to be under 12 chapters, wHOOPS.
> 
> You're welcome to follow me on tumblr @novacorpsrecruit


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